



; ■ ■ .^■'-•T. ' ■-- ■ • • A-.. .‘•;.V 

t 








K 


. S 


W p 


% 

“t 


^ ' ,v. 


-V. 




« • / 


V. 


'V- . <■ 


i - --•^ ^ % a' ‘ 


% \ 


, ► i . mm \ A 


✓ ‘ J 


W M • * • • 

> V' ^ ’ 

•'• •‘',«^* <*■ ■• 


'A' 

. ♦ 


4' 


^ .* ^ I .. 

4 

y,; 

• k * *- ' 

4 




J '* 

« • • 

« 

•y 

A ' 


, .-y .:i^ ! 

■v;K,,-<- -^ •■. , ;;^ 

• .* ..'.* -, , 


I'M 


/j- 


Vj • 

V ; - 


< - 




S 


# 

K 

i 


• « 


< 


% ^ 




•■ft : , ^ . 




" r. •'/ -, 

• ^ «4 


ft-vV';* ■’' .■ * T- ■ ' . -•■ . 


^ ' . * I 

\ 


1 

. 


•• J • 


• k 




r*-: 





> • r ‘ 


J * 

f 

J 


■ *.^’ ■ - ■ -T-H 

IT 


. *1 


y.-i* ■ 


,Aj '4 ^ 


•_ i 


/ ’ 


^ t 


. A 


SOv, v *. • ‘ 

fe-ih-.y"':'-- . 


.• \ 


A , . I. 
< 


.. -S 






%. ^ 




V • 

M *. . 


# 

/ 


S?|« 




I ^ 


V S V . 


t''/ 


« 

•4 


• 4 


^ x.i 


4/ 


y 

( 




> / 


< « 








s « 

‘ % 


.J 




Tt V A 




f 




' f 


4 « 




* « 


4 P 


■K- 


. I 


* 


/ 




% 

S A 


iv;. 


V 


•"-. i 


W- 

■''Jy-.'t 


r\ • • 


4 


•> 

y 

> 






' / 




I 


;v* 


^ » 


4*_‘ 


V .'* • \ 

t 


V. • ) 

I - 

■ 

, \ V 


\ ^ 

' -I • % 




< 




. > > 


' .1 


>. 


- > 


1^* 


4 »« 






I 


/'ii 




f 


- l y : • 

“ ? \ 

t ^ 


' * ;\ •■ 


•^ . « • 





f4 ^ 


>. ^ *T • 


^V« . . «- 


' • N 

' s * 


^ 

/I . • V ♦ . • v 


r T r 




1 ^ 


1 « 


•i'r’i'^,,'- ',■ ■ 
. VV-V" * 

££‘'^^y~ 


I 


I I 


I * 


» % 

/ 

• «k 


• > » 




;•- * 




•V 


-. ir> ' 


' : ’ V V 

. t TV ‘ » 

^• '. t -' * • . 


> ■ 


\ -• • 


\'' 



' -, • 


y ^ 




• 4 > 
V- ♦ 


-,j 


'«:#f 




. 1 


’A 




4 % 

»• 





1 . 
s.' 








'V 


'%.*i 


V / 


\ • 


^ . 
t • 

J I 


% > • 

‘ V V 

, \ 




\ / 


4 


J 


> 

.1 ' 


4 • y I 

/ . * A 




.1 


I ‘ . 


c 




i.y. 


^ \ 


■ ^ . j * ' V' * / 

✓ .*1 ^ 

hi' - U. >^ 




y-' 


» 






r » • 


/<• ' 

P 




> 


A 


N <' , » 


;.' >» 


./ 


f' 



. < r, 

y’ .vf--' 

• . r? : 






^ - 


w. 








» 4 


s; 




; I 


.f-'V-v •.. ' ^ - 

A.'- •• • . f / * , 

• » ^ ^ 

t '* •, ' ' I *■'♦ V ^ 

^ ^ V ^ ^ ♦ 

4 1 4 


. 'r 


# . 






<V. 




y , 


. 




< • 

I 




/ 




V ’* .< 

.^-;- ..’jri ; 

:. s % 




s ■ 

’•% 




t • 

'^'■1 ■ 

: . V- 


-» 

« 


% \ % 


- 


\ I 


V 




- V 




» ■> ' 


; ' 


f .*4 • . / ^ 


4 ^ 


> ,.i • ■ ‘ ■* ^ 


• » • 

. ^ ' • ' • •• i 

('rc.'^-.' ■'■-■-* ' 

• •. C r '* . • - . 


4 . • 


• « -•• 




r- 


«W 


.;-■■■ • 


%\ 

•* 


f. 


v> ‘ .'• c ■ -. v^; f . 

r: \- 

vrff . ■ i ■ 


'r ^ "'j • 

* • # V * 

s #•' r ^ ^ • 

I * I , , 




-'M 


. 4 ^ 


i J 


^ r 


_ •♦ 


* V 


? ' *; -• 

‘^^■- »r V» ■ >■ 


• ‘ "s < 


.V. 

^ . 


N 4 

# * 


/^. 

A n 


m 


;-ov- 


• V . ♦ 

'V. 


f ’ 


;- ^ % 


y 1 




.4 


* 

\ *. 

* > 




4 

' % > ‘ 


aj'- ■ 4- 


' , -» • • 
' .' v-v- * A*' 




- A 4’ - 


-'•.'X ••*^ 

A ‘ • 


4 . 

10^6 * •*•' 




•t 


t. 


< : 







* «j • 




'* i 


V- 


_t r * * 


/ % 


A' ' 


M 


- » 


^ .‘-Iv -fV 


/ • • 




^ *• r 


v.;f- 






■A -' f 






. f 


I 




« ^ 


>‘ 


A.- • •• 



^ f V {L~^ 

^ «v. 


^ I 


4 

V 


^1 


A • 


f. 


. ^ 


>■ 

r 


• « 


‘ V 

* 

« 




C- t.i'' ^ ? ■ I’'--' 


41 ^ 


• ^ ► 








> 

« / 




yx 

w 



^ ^ '-* c: V '■ V.. -V, 

. ' *4 


A 


> 

>. 




■*i 


♦. ■ s’ 


>L V - 4 . -V 

r. 1 - :-. 


« 4 


T 

» •% 


t . 


. f 

>■■.. 




>A"- 


\ *\* 


% J - 




I 

Ji, 






4 •# 


“ '- ■ ^ ^ 'U 

■/ • w fc-- 

- - • ^ t» 


I • 


% 

A 




_;»“[■ ’» 4 • 




/t — 


• V 




- S' - 4 




•'V. 







L *1 ^ 


• 1 

>: >■- 


V 


- 




Xf't' 


1 

1 


' * ' ‘ if 


Kr 


« 




'♦ < 


« 

4 ; 


r 


•N • 


4 y 


C^'> 


V • 


I 

/ 

^ 



k 

t'- 

h 


» 

4 

« 



/4 -* V- 
. - “4 




• :v 




■4 

/• 


• . 4 ^» »< 


'*ir 

1 



> •» 


■ riS’v.*-*. 


iTr 


1.^ 






• • 

I •. 


*■,» 


I ♦ 


> 

* >- 


r **- 

-/ ' ' l' . *-'•'. .'i •^ - ' ' ' 

' * m. ' * s ^ ‘ ^ '^4 ' » * * j * \ •**” ^4 “ 

^ ‘ ' .'*•, 't •**, ' ^ 3 mK- 

' *. ^ * ^ * «« . Z*'^ >'*“ ^34 t4iZC 




> * 


i 

4 

» 

I 

> 


«. •' 
.%•' 



K" 


■ •*,•• 

^ . I 


• t * 


r 


L 


r 

I 




'A.' 

j^'- .. , 




i 




♦ • 

j? 


'ir'* * ' '^ ■ -^ ■ " t «•* . , - ‘*^4 

.. V".- • • . - 

•/' - • • ' . ^ ‘if 

■ . . ^ ^njSflr 



f . 

' • 

V 


V # 


• 


# 


% %* 


• • 





5? 


- 4 ^ 






^• 4 *\. -' -S. 


4 



Colonial Dajs 


Page 173 








In Colonial Days. 


A TALE OF 

'RHODE ISLAND AND PROVIDENCE 
PLANTATIONS. 

BY 

L. M. 

AUTHOR OF “OLD BRISTOL,” “THE FAMILY OF THE BLACK 
FOREST,” “MILDRED FARROWAY’S FORTUNE.” 



I 9 
^ > 1 

> 


PHILADELPHIA: 

n merioan I^a[>tist publication Society*, 
1420 Chestnut Street. 


.hs>V7^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1886, by the 
AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. ' 


I 


CONTENTS 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER I. 

A Winter Evening at the Fythe Farm 7 

CH/PTERIL 

Mistress Sophy Rodman 18 

CHAPTER HI. 

An Unexpected Encounter 27 

CHAPTER IV. 

Captain Donnycourt's Visits.. 48 

CHAPTER V. 

The Seeds of Mischief 59 

CHAPTER VI. 

Nathanael Hives Advice to J onathan Pursell . . 75 

CHAPTER VII. 

Jonathan Pursell’s Decision 86 

CHAPTER VIII. 

A Sermon by Rev. Hezekiah Smith 100 


4 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER IX. 

The First Knot in a Tangled Skein 108 

CHAPTER X. 

A Visit to the Bride at Haverhill 122 

CHAPTER XL 

Success of Donnycourt’s Plan 136 

CHAPTER XII. 

Mercy’s Visit to Chelmsford 149 

CHAPTER XIIL 

Nathanael Rodman’s Baptism 161 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A Talk Between Mercy and Sophy 173 

CHAPTER XV. 

Arthur Donnycourt Re-appears 183 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Goody Folinsbee Helps to Tangle the Skein 193 


CONTENTS. 5 

PAGE. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Jonathan Pursell Visits Nathanael 202 

CHAPTER XVIIL 

Arthur Honnycourt’s Departure 215 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Reuben Seaton Disappears 228 

CHAPTER XX. 

The Burning of the Gaspee 242 

CHAPTER XXL 

Sophy Has Unwelcome Tidings of Donnycourt.. 257 
CHAPTER XXII. 

Jonathan Learns a Painful Secret 267 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Mistress Sophy’s Spinning-Wheel Seized 280 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Penelope Encounters Reuben 291 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Mr. Rogers Helps to Repair a Wrong 301 


6 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Mercy Starts in Quest of Reuben 312 

CHAPTER XXVIL 

Nathanael Meets Donnycourt in Boston 318 

CHAPTER XXVIIL 

Mistress Sophy in Trouble 331 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Reuben Returns to His Mother 340 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Mercy Comforts Sophy 355 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

The First Gun of the Revolution 364 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Dame Truefitt’s Advice to Jonathan 375 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Mercy Again Meets Donnycourt 385 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Mercy Finds Her Life Work 401 



NEW 
HAW[P©ttlBE 


• HAVERHILL 


• B05Q1^0RD 



• CHELMSFORD 


SALEM# 

• AGTON 

« COFre ORD 

• tEXmOTON ^(9. 


--'h MAP 
-ILLUSTRATING 

J.I1N COLONIAL Days: 



1^- 


In Colonial Days. 


CHAPTER I. 


A WINTER EVENING AT THE FYTHE FARM. 

COLD, gusty November evening, in 1769, was 



closing in foggy darkness over the old forests 
and the scanty clearings of Providence Plantations. 
Lights twinkled in the windows of the gabled houses 
in the town of Providence, and cast flickering bright- 
ness into the narrow streets; but in the surrounding 
country, where the evening work was done, and tired 
farmers had closed heavy wooden shutters, and drawn 
up old arm-chairs, or wooden settles, before the logs 
blazing on the andirons in the wide chimney place, 
the dreary winter night held undisputed sway over 
the outer world. The shrill whistling of the wind, 
and the creak of leafless boughs, as a fiercer gust than 
usual shook their branches, was mingled with the 
occasional cry of a wild-cat, or the howl of a hungry 


wolf. 


About three miles out of the town stood an old 
farmhouse, partly sheltered by the slope of a hill from 


8 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


the full fury of the blast, that nevertheless made 
strange music in the throat of its wide chimney. 

This farm had been originally the property of old 
Reuben Fythe, and was at one time an estate of large 
extent; but the family had dwindled down, and the 
land was gradually sold. At last the old man died, 
and the home lot was purchased by a gay young Eng- 
lishman, Harvey R^man, who came to settle there 
with a pretty young bride, of one of the old Puritan 
families in the neighboring colony of Massachusetts. 

But Harvey Rodman’s name never clung to the 
old place. He died about two years after; and it 
must be confessed that the neighbors pitied the poor 
little widow far more than they regretted him. 

When, after a struggling existence of four years, 
during which the farm went down sadly for lack of 
good, steady management. Elder Ebenezer Fythe, the 
half-brother of Reuben, returned to Providence, the 
gossips were not long in discovering that the grave 
and kindly man took a special interest in the little 
widow at the old homestead. And the marriage that 
followed received the approbation of the sober-minded 
part of the community. All this happened more 
than thirty years ago; and both husband and wife 
have long since qlosed their eyes on the trials and joys 
of life, in this strange old world that is ever new. 

In their accustomed seats by the wide chimney- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


9 


place, on this blustering night, sit two women, the 
only remaining representatives of the name of Fythe. 
Indeed, the widow’s cap, closely covering her dark 
hair, betokens that the elder of the two no longer 
bears that name; and both the cap, and the grave, 
quiet features, give her an older expression than the 
upright figure, the clear, un wrinkled complexion, and 
the smooth bands of hair, as yet entirely unstreaked 
with grey, would justify. 

Her younger companion is a slender, graceful 
maiden, with a fair, delicate complexion and shapely 
features. The varying color, that flushed and faded, 
and the changeable grey eyes, that at times dilated 
and grew singularly dark and dreamy, betrayed a 
sensitive temperament, concealed under manners and 
speech almost as quiet as those of the older woman. 
In features and complexion the two are not alike ; 
but there is that inexplicable resemblance, called a 
family likeness; and in fact they are sisters, although 
there is actually a difference of ten years in their ages. 
This difference has seemed even greater since the 
sudden death of Dorothy’s husband, Abel Seaton, 
which happened three years ago, and took all traces 
of girlish brightness out of her naturally reserved and 
quiet face. Mercy’s shrinking timidity made her at 
times seem much younger than her age of twenty- 
two, and it was not really very surprising that 


10 


IN (X)LONIAL DAYS. 


strangers had occasionally spoken to Reuben — 
Dorothy’s only child, a bright-faced boy of fourteen — 
of his sister Mercy.” This evening, however, the 
difference was not so marked ; for both women looked 
anxious and thoughtful. 

fear me that Reuben will only lose a day on 
the wharf to-morrow,” said Dorothy, as she laid 
down a letter, which had evidently traveled far and 
been much read. 

'^Mr. John Brown expected that one of his ships, 
which was to leave London on the same day, would 
be in last week,” replied Mercy ; so it will not be 
strange if they do arrive to-morrow.” 

“ Well, Cudjo can do the work without Reuben’s 
help. Yet I would that I knew whether to expect 
them or not, for it is needless expense to have 
Keelah here before Nathanael and his wife really 
come,” said Dorothy. In truth, it seems to me, 
if the child be seven years old, she should hardly 
need a nurse.” 

“ But, think you not. Sister Dorothy, that may-be 
Mrs. Rodman is a fine lady, and but little used to 
work, as we have ever been taught to do?” asked 
Mercy, anxiously. In good truth, though I would 
gladly see our brother, of whom our dear mother 
always spoke so tenderly, I am foolishly fearful of 
his lady wife.” 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


11 


Nonsense, child/^ replied Dorothy, gravely. 

Fine lady or not, she ought to be able to dress 
and care for her own child, when it is a little 
wench of seven summers. In good truth, I believe 
the wisest way is to give ourselves no trouble con- 
cerning Keelah. If they come to-morrow, we will 
do our best to make them comfortable.’^ 

She then took up her knitting and worked steadily 
for a few seconds, while her sister sat gazing into the 
fire. At last Mercy asked, rather timidly: 

Dorothy, do you know aught of our mother’s 
first husband? Think you that Nathanael is like 
his father?” 

'^God forbid!” said Dorothy, quickly; then her 
cheek reddened a little, she paused in her knitting, 
and seemed for a moment to be undecided whether to 
say more. 

Mercy,” she said at last, turning to her sister, 
who was watching her in anxious suspense, ‘Gt is 
best, as our dear father used to say, to let the faults 
of the dead rest in their graves; but since Nathanael 
is coming hither at last, after all these years, it is 
perhaps well that you should know somewhat of his 
father. Harvey Rodman died in a drunken brawl 
when Nathanael was but little more than a year old. 
The shame and grief nearly crushed our mother’s 
life.” 


12 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


'^Oh, Dorothy/^ exclaimed Mercy, in awed tones, 
^Miow was that possible? Our mother was so sweet 
and godly 

‘^Aye, truly, replied Dorothy, “it seems passing 
strange to us, who knew only her peaceful, happy life 
with our sainted father. My husband told me the 
sad story, and I had already heard some words on the 
subject drop from our mother’s lips, though she could 
never speak much on it.” 

“Does Nathanael know of this?” asked Mercy. 

“He can hardly be ignorant of it; for all these 
years that he has been in England he has been living, 
as you know, with his grandfather. And old Sir 
Peter Rodman, if report spoke truly, could have for- 
given the drunkenness and the brawling far more 
readily than he could forgive his son’s marriage with 
a Puritan maiden of godly parentage. It was a sore 
anxiety and sorrow to our mother that her only son 
should be under such training,” said Dorothy. 

“Then why was he not made to tarry here? I 
would never have let him go,” exclaimed Mercy, in 
low tones, but with a sort of repressed energy, that 
sometimes showed itself in curious contrast with her 
usual gentle timidity. 

“You may read these letters that I found in our 
mother’s work-box,” replied Dorothy. As she spoke, 
she raised the lid of a large, square work-box that 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


13 


stood on the table near her. It was curiously fash- 
ioned, with a kind of well in the centre, and around 
this a tray containing small partitions for reels, thim- 
ble, wax, and other materials for sewing. When the 
tray was lifted, it disclosed a goodly space below, in 
which small pieces of work could be stowed away. 
But the well in the centre, which was the whole depth 
of the box, and was closed with a separate lid, had 
evidently been used as a receptacle for private papers. 
Dorothy drew out a pin that fastened down the cover 
of this well, and from several worn and yellowed 
papers she chose out two letters, which she handed 
to Mercy. 

The first was directed to Mrs. Elizabeth Kodman. 
The writing was crabbed, but Mercy drew nearer to 
the candle, and made out that it was from old Sir 
Peter Rodman, of Rodmanhurst, Sussex, England, 
dated 1739. It contained, in rather curt phraseology, 
an invitation to his son’s widow and child to visit him 
in England, and gave also the information of the 
death of Harvey Rodman’s elder brother. The 
second letter was addressed to the Reverend Ebenezer 
Fythe. And if the former letter was curt, this one 
was even more unpleasant, for the elaborately polite 
sentences seemed to conceal a sneer. 

I do not understand this,” said Mercy. Of 
what letter does he speak?” 


14 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


It is clear, I think, that our father had written in 
answer to the first letter, which, you perceive, is dated 
four years after our mother’s second marriage. And 
it is also clear that he must have informed Sir Peter 
that our mother was no longer a widow, and that he 
would be a father to her fatherless son; for you see 
that this offer is rejected, and that Sir Peter wishes 
Nathanael to be sent to him. Abel told me it was 
said among the neighbors that Nathanael was as good 
as heir to a fine estate in England, and that, therefore, 
our father and mother thought it would be wrong to 
refuse the request of the childless old man. But 
Abel said, and I am sure he was right, that it was 
more the fear of breeding dislike and dissension 
between those so near of kin as Nathanael and his 
grandfather, than any desire for worldly gain, which 
made them at length agreee to part with the boy. 

In that case, how is it that Nathanael is returning 
hither when his grandfather is dead ? Has he sold 
the estate ? ” asked Mercy. • 

^^Nay, nay, child, he never had it,” replied Dorothy, 
with a slight, sad smile. There was his Cousin 
Rupert, the child of Sir Peter’s oldest son ; he was 
but a puny babe, I have heard our mother say. But 
as he grew older, and showed a good intention to 
live and inherit the property, I fancy that Sir Peter 
would have been not ill-pleased if Nathanael had 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


15 


remained in Providence Plantations. Be that as it 
may, you see NathanaeFs letter tells us that the poor 
old man is dead. Rupert has the property now, and 
things are not pleasant for Nathanael and his wife. 
They are therefore minded to come to us ; so we have 
but to make them welcome, for our mother’s sake.” 

‘^Aye, Dorothy, that we will,” replied Mercy, 
heartily; ^^and a little for his own too, is it not? 
Can you remember him?” 

“Yes and no, child. I have but a faint notion of 
a big, grave, kindly brother, who used to carry me 
about and play with me ; but as I was only a babe of 
three years old when he left the colony at the age of 
ten, it is more likely that our mother’s talk of him 
has kept up my childish impression than that I 
really remember him.” 

There was a slight pause, while the knitting-needles 
clicked and the tire crackled cheerily. Then Mercy 
asked, in a troubled voice ; 

“ Sister Dorothy, think you that Mrs. Rodman will 
be one of those who care not for all those things that 
we hold most precious?” 

“In truth, I know not, child,” replied Dorothy. 
“ After our dear mother’s death, Nathanael wrote but 
twice to our father, though I well know that father 
ever felt a yearning tenderness toward him, almost ' 
if he had been really his own son. In truth, faiuer 


16 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


wrote to liim about the time when his Cousin Rupert 
would come of age, to ask if he was minded to return 
to his old home, where a warm welcome awaited 
him.^^ 

^^Did he answer that?’^ asked Mercy. I knew 
naught of it.’^ 

Nay, thou wert but a child,’’ said Dorothy, in her 
motherly tones. “ It must have been nearly nine years 
ago, for I mind well that I had but just breeched 
Reuben a short time before father wrote; and the 
lad was so wild and masterful, that he had nearly 
worn through the cloth, and I was spinning the 
wool for a new web when Nathanael’s answer came.” 

What said he ? ” interrupted Mercy, eagerly. 
Her mind was so taken up with this new brother 
and sister, and the little niece from over the sea, that 
she was even a little impatient concerning Reuben’s 
breeches, though she had herself helped in the spin- 
ning. 

^‘He said that' he could not come; that he expected 
soon to take to himself a wife; and, if I mistake 
not, he was already settled as vicar, or rector, of 
the church near Rodmanhurst.” 

Oh, I knew not that she was a minister’s wife,” 
said Mercy, in relieved tones; ^‘then surely they will 
both feel at home in a minister’s family.” 

Dorothy made no reply, but as she rose to snuff 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


17 


the candle, she mentally recalled how her father had 
shaken his head, and the almost stern look which his 
kindly, venerable face had worn, as he murmured 
M^hen he read that letter: 

Blind leaders of the blind ! What else can it be 
when this living is given to him as a sop, because he 
has lost the estate. It grieves me sorely that the lad 
ever left us.” 

Dorothy, however, had no wish to prejudice her 
young sister against her new relations; and also she 
and her father had always jealously guarded the 
gentle, loving little maiden, as far as possible, from 
the knowledge of the strange mixture of evil with 
the holiest things in this world. To Mercy’s simple, 
guileless mind, good things were always good, and 
bad always bad. She knew little of the tares that 
the devil mingles with the wheat ; and she went to 
her peaceful slumbers that night with bright anticipa- 
tions of the coming of the minister’s family. 


B 


CHAPTER IT. 


MISTRESS SOPHY RODMAIT. 


HE old home comes back to me as if I had 



seen it but yesterday. There is my mother’s 
chair, and the work-box. Dorothy, it always stood 
in the window, beside her, as I remember.” 

Aye, and it would be there now, Nathanael, were 
it not that I moved it yesternight, to read a few old 
letters it contained,” said Dorothy, as she lifted the 
large box, and moved towards the window, where a 
tall and strongly built man stood by the old arm- 
chair, his hands resting on its straight back with 
gentle touch, almost as if it had been a thing of life. 

He advanced as Dorothy spoke, took the heavy box 
from her hands, and placed it on the window seat. It 
was an almost involuntary action for Nathanael Rod- 
man to take from a lady’s hands anything that seemed 
too large or too weighty for her to carry. But it was 
a double surprise to Dorothy, who had always been 
the active, capable daughter, wife, and mother, caring 
for others more than she cared for herself, to have 
this slight burden carried for her, and then to see this 
stranger — in whose bronzed and thought-lined face 


18 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


19 


she had vainly tried to catch some faint resemblance 
that would awaken her childish memory of him — 
place the old work-box exactly as she had seen her 
mother place it in the window seat. 

This little link with the past gave her what she 
had been seeking, and she felt at home with him at 
once. She was not demonstrative ; she only laid her 
hand beside his, that again rested on the old chair, 
and said : 

‘‘Brother, you remember well.^^ 

A. sort of cloud or shadow seemed to lift from 
NathanaeFs face. In the bustle of their arrival that 
morning, when the two horses had come cantering up 
the road — Reuben, with Mistress Sophy Rodman 
mounted behind him on his mother’s pillion, that he 
had taken in for her use when he went into the town 
at daybreak, and Nathanael, with his little daughter 
Penelope wrapped in his cloak, and seated before him, 
— there had been hearty greetings and an outspoken 
welcome ; but it was strangers with strangers. Now, 
when Mercy had gone with Penelope to their chamber, 
and Reuben was oif to the barn, looking to the horses 
and aiding old Cudjo, these two, who alone were 
closely linked with the past, had felt the restraint that 
follows when sad memories are awakened by a 
stranger. But Nathanael’s action and Dorothy’s 
simple words broke down the barrier. He saw 


20 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


again before him the little toddler, who would say, 
‘‘ Brother,^’ though the name Nathanael was too much 
for her tiny lips ; and he turned, with a frank glow 
of pleasure in his eyes, and took both her hands. 

I can see her very features in you, Dorothy,’’ he 
said. 

‘‘Aye, but Mercy has the manners and complex- 
ion,” replied Dorothy, pleased with his words, but 
escaping with a little shamefacedness, as was her 
wont when the conversation turned on herself. 
“She is a sweet and gracious child, brother.” 

“Aye, and passing fair too,” replied Nathanael. 
“I hope that she and my little Sophy will take 
kindly to each other.” 

For a moment Dorothy was a little puzzled, think- 
ing that her brother had meant to say his daughter’s 
name. Mistress Sophy E-odman was a bright, lively, 
self-possessed little brunette, whose masterful little 
ways, though pretty and graceful enough, had not 
seemed to Dorothy, in the short glimpse she had as 
yet had of her, by any means to call for such a 
protectingly pitying tone. But she was soon to 
learn that Nathanael’s was the nature that makes 
a man pre-eminently a protector to those whom he 
loves; and the fact that his merry little wife was 
nearly fifteen years younger than himself, made him 
singularly compliant to her slightest whims, and 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


21 


always eager to please her. It was not that he 
feared to lose her affection, though, in truth, he 
hardly knew what unbounded reverence and regard 
for him lay deep in the loyal little heart that ever 
beat true beneath all her whimseys and frivolities; but 
at times he feared lest he should grow too old and 
unsympathetic for the bright little creature he had 
won. All this, however, could not be read at a 
glance, even by Dorothy’s observant eyes; and she- 
was well satisfied to rest content with the discovery 
of a true-hearted, loving son of her dear mother. 

The sound of voices on the stairs put a stop to any 
farther conversation between the two; but Dorothy 
went off to her hospitable housewifely cares with a 
lighter heart. 

As for Mercy, she hardly knew as yet whether she 
was pleased or not with her new relations. Her ideas 
of the natural laws of life, and the universal fitness 
of things, had received a rude shock when she first 
set eyes on her new sister-in-law. It was not that 
Mistress Sophy did or said anything amiss ; but the 
gay little knots of ribbons, and the piled up curls, 
that added several inches to her rather diminutive 
stature, made her look much grander than either 
Mercy or Dorothy, although they had donned their 
best gowns to do honor to their guests; and Mistress 
Sophy’s boxes were not yet brought away from the 


22 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


wharf where the vessel was slowly unloading. Her 
merry chatter also sounded very like a good-hearted, 
rather petulant child, ready to scold with a smile, and 
to laugh with a little pout. All this would have 
agreed very well with Mercy’s first expectation of a 
fine lady; but such a ^‘minister’s wife” was utterly 
bewildering to the simple imaginings of the minister’s 
daughter.’ 

“ I know I look a fright, a perfect fright,” said the 
little dame, dolefully, as she raised herself on her tip- 
toes before the small looking-glass, perched on the top 
of a high chest of drawers. “I told Nathanael that 
I positively must get those boxes, for I should really 
die of shame to present myself before you in such a 
plight. But, dear me, he could not get them. What 
with all this talk about duties and imports, and rights 
of the colonies and Parliamentary usurpations, who 
knows but they will whisk off my bonnet-box to their 
strong rooms and lock it up, lest perchance it contain 
a chest of tea?” 

“Tea in your bonnet-box!” exclaimed Mercy, in 
bewilderment. 

“Mamma is only talking in pleasantry, Aunt 
Mercy,” said a childish voice at her elbow; and 
Mercy started and looked down at the little girl, who 
had scarcely spoken before, who now stood watching 
her gravely with a pair of big, dark eyes. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


23 


“Hold your tongue, Miss Malapert,’’ said her 
mother, playfully shaking her finger at the child. 
“A doleful kind of pleasantry, truly, that keeps a 
poor storm-tossed gentlewoman from getting her fresh 
gowns and head-gear, when at last she arrives in 
port after all those weeks of misery. Is it not so, 
Mistress Fythe?” 

“Oh, call me Mercy!” exclaimed the younger 
woman, reddening through her fair skin. 

“Thank you, sweetheart, that I will, if you will 
call me Sophy,” replied the little matron, stopping in 
her work of adjusting her cap on the dark curls, while 
she laid her hands on Mercy’s shoulders and im- 
printed a dainty kiss first on one, then on the other 
of the pink cheeks. “It is good of you to be so 
friendly to me. I assure you I felt very shy about 
coming in this sudden way among Nathanael’s rela- 
tions.” 

Mercy was still more bewildered to hear this self- 
possessed lady talk so easily of her shyness and look 
so much at her ease, while she herself felt painfully 
certain that shyness and embarrassment showed in 
every feature and in every word she spoke, though it 
would have choked her to attempt to confess it. 

She took refuge in the subject of the boxes, and 
remarked as re-assuringly as she could : 

“I am sure you will not have to wait long for your 


24 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


gowns. Mr. John Brown is a good friend to us, and 
I know he will try to get these boxes for you without 
overmuch delay. But all those taxes and imposts 
that have been so unjustly put upon us cause endless 
troubles, and right-minded men say that the only 
safety lies in our agreement that certain of these 
taxed goods shall not be imported. If the captain 
of your vessel has tried to bring in any such, it will 
surely cause him much trouble and no gain.” 

^^How know you all this? and wherefore should 
you trouble your pretty head with such dull matters as 
taxes and Parliament business?” cried Sophy, raising 
her eyebrows with a comical look of distress. ‘‘ I 
thought myself very knowing, in that I had picked 
up sundry phrases that were always being bandied at 
the ship’s table among such wise heads as Nathanael 
consorted with ; and here I find a pretty maiden in 
her teens ready to take up the thread of their dis- 
course.” 

^Mt w^ould be strange, truly, if w^e cared naught for 
W’hat is just and what is unjust,” replied Mercy, a 
little proudly, her shyness giving way as the subject 
was spoken of which lay so much on the heart and 
thoughts of every colonist. ^^Have we not heard 
what was done in Boston last March, when the King’s 
troops w^ere sent there, and the Bomney impressed 
New England seamen and took the sloop Liberty, 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


25 


under the pretext that she was engaged in smuggling? 
There was rioting then; and Mr. Brown says there 
will be worse ere the men of Rhode Island will sub- 
mit to have their freedom wrested from them. Saw 
you not the great elm in front of Olney’s Tavern, in 
Providence? Surely Reuben will not have missed to 
point it out to you ? It is bare enough now ; but I 
saw it last June when it was a mass of tender green, 
and the people assembled to dedicate it as the Liberty 
Tree.^^ 

‘^You set great store by your liberty, methiuks,’^ 
said Sophy, looking rather curiously at the young 
maiden, whose timidity seemed to have all vanished, 
while her cheeks glowed and her eyes grew dark with 
the earnestness of her speech. Prithee, do the very 
babes in this new country lisp weighty matters of 
state, and study rates of imports and laws of com- 
merce, instead of their tales of Robin Goodfellow and 
Queen Mab?^^ 

^^Are there any babes here. Aunt Mercy ?’^ broke 
in the same little voice at her elbow; but this time in 
pleading, wistful tones. would that I could play 
with them. There were some on the ship, and I cried 
one night for Barbara and little Peter.” 

Nonsense, silly child, thou art ever thinking of 
those naughty children, who care little for thee, and 
who would take the bread out of our mouths, if their 


26 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


father and mother had not done it already,” said 
Mistress Rodman, pettishly. ^‘Thy Aunt Mercy will 
think thou hast no more manners and breeding than 
one of the native Indians, if thou pratest thus when 
thou art not spoken to.” 

Mercy was quick-witted enough to guess that the 
children named were Penelope’s little cousins, the 
children of Sir Rupert, the new master of Rodman- 
hurst; but she was greatly shocked that such thoughts 
should be put into the mind of a child of tender 
years. She held out her arms to the little girl, saying, 
kindly : 

Doubtless, we shall find some little ones to play 
with thee, sweetheart; and now come with me and 
we will see if thy Aunt Dorothy hath not a sweet 
cake for thee.” 


CHAPTER III. 


AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 

rpHE two sisters soon found that their new relations 
fitted into their places in the little household 
without any such terrible reversal of their usual order 
of life as they had feared. 

Little Penelope, far from requiring a nurse, was 
herself a very useful little personage. She trotted 
about the house in her aunt Dorothy’s train, and, 
in her grave, reserved little way, showed great delight 
in all the housekeeping details, that were entire!}'' 
new to her. While her mother, if not very useful, 
was at least not upsetting,” as Dorothy remarked to 
Mercy. She was quite content to take up with new 
ways ; and her brightness, and ready wit in making 
pleasant and appropriate little speeches, went far to 
win her a place in the hearts of these simple and well- 
disposed gentlewomen. As for Reuben, he was de- 
voted to her from the very first hour that she entered 
the house ; and it was well that Nathanael was there 
to take some oversight of farm matters, for Reuben’s 
head was not worth shucks for ’membering,” as old 


28 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Cucljo remarked to Nathanael, and so everything 
came on Mistress Seaton. 

^^Ole rnassa, he knew more ’bout preachin’ than 
plantin’ ’taters; and after ole missus died, ’peared as 
if he hadn’t much hold on this warl’ nohow. Then 
Massa Seaton, he took hold and brought up the ole 
place right smart, he did, till he got that fall outer 
the hay cart. Then young missus, she done all she 
knowed how; but a place don’t get on widout a 
massa. It don’t stan’ to reason as it should,” said 
old Cudjo, shaking his head solemnly. 

He had been bought by Mr. Fythe nearly thirty 
years before, and he spoke his mind with the privi- 
leged freedom of an old slave who had been long 
under the kindly rule of good masters. 

Dorothy confirmed what Cudjo said when Nathanael 
began to speak of his plans, and she added : 

Let be for the present, brother. If you are 
minded to turn to farming, you cannot begin before 
spring. Stay here, and take time to look about you.” 

Old Sir Peter had felt some twinges of conscience 
concerning this fine young grandson whom he had 
kept hanging idly about Rodmanhurst after his 
college days were over, merely because he feared 
that the peevish, weakly Rupert would never live 
to inherit the property. When it appeared, however, 
that Rupert not only attained to man’s estate, but 


IX COLONIAL DAYS. 


29 


actually took a wife, who presented him with a young 
heir, Sir Peter tried to atone to Nathanael in a fash- 
ion of his own, by giving him the living of Rodman- 
hurst, which the young man accepted simply because 
it gave him a living, and the vicarage enabled him to 
otfer a home to his bride. When the old man died, 
his will showed that he had left to Nathanael what he 
could of ready money ; the estate was, of course, en- 
tailed on Rupert. This disposal of the ready money 
made Rupert very cross, and it also gave Nathanael 
a means of escape from a thralldom that was growing 
every day more irksome to him. 

He now agreed to Dorothy^s proposal, that the 
family should remain together until the spring, on 
condition that he should pay the usual board and 
lodging bills. Dorothy at first demurred to tliis; 
but when Nathanael said, If you don’t want it now, 
lay it by for Reuben’s schooling; the lad is quick 
and bright, and should have opportunities,” he struck 
the right chord. 

When the full account of the first Commencement 
of the Rhode Island College at Warren, on September 
seventh, had appeared in the “ Providence Gazette and 
Country Journal” two months before, Dorothy had 
read the names of the seven young men who had re- 
ceived the degree of Bachelor of Arts with a secret 
longing that, one day, her Reuben’s name should 


30 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


figure in the same manner; and now that there was 
so much talk of bringing the College to Providence, 
close by to their home, she was more than ever eager 
to see this hope fulfilled. 

It shall be as you say, brother,” she replied, with 
something very like tears shining in the grave and 
steady eyes. Since the day of his birth it has been 
my wish to see the lad following in the footsteps of 
my blessed father; and it was his own father’s desire 
that our son should be given to the Lord. But we 
wished him to have good scholarship. My father, 
who had but small chance for learning, ever said that 
an uneducated minister was as an ill-fitted-out work- 
man, no matter how strong his zeal.” 

Nathanael had dropped the prefix reverend from 
his name when he left Rodmanhurst ; and so strong in 
him was the feeling of repulsion from enforced re- 
ligious duty, that he had much ado not to push away 
the book when Dorothy laid the Bible beside him, for 
evening prayers, on the first evening after their arrival. 
The next day, when he went to town to see after the 
boxes, he even purposely loitered until the supper 
hour, and the evening prayer that immediately fol- 
lowed, would be over. But something in Dorothy’s 
simple, earnest longing that her son should be dedi- 
cated to the service of the Lord struck him with a 
feeling of contrite shame. He only said, gently: 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


31 


“Have a care, Dorothy. It is ill-work making 
plans for a lad of his years. Force him not against 
his inclination.” 

“Force him! Nay, brother; if he thinks it not the 
highest and the happiest calling, I would rather he 
spent his days in pegging old boots.” 

She suddenly remembered that she knew nothing 
of her brother’s views concerning his own life, and 
she held her peace, fearing lest she might have seemed 
to cast reflections on him; but he answered, quietly: 

“You are quite right, Dorothy, as I have reason to 
know. After paying for our meat and lodging with 
my Sunday sermon, I never wanted to open the Bible 
again till the next Saturday night. I should have 
been better pegging boots.” 

“ My father thought that it was so,” replied 
Dorothy; “and it gave him a sore heart when your 
letter came.” 

“I thought the tidings would have pleased him,” 
said Nathanael, surprised. “I know that I said 
naught of scruples, for I would not grieve him.” 

“It was not what you said that grieved him, but 
what you left unsaid,” answered Dorothy. “Think 
you, that a man whose heart was in the work of the 
Lord would write of such a matter as coldly as if he 
were detailing the purchase of a new coat?” 

Nathanael said nothing; but the discovery that he 


82 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


had come among people who dared to look below the 
surface, and who were not to be satisfied with a mere 
veneering of propriety, was not displeasing to him. 
That evening, instead of apparently forgetting all 
about evening worship until the Bible was laid beside 
him, he rose himself to fetch it as soon as the cloth 
was removed. Mistress Sophy looked on in surprise; 
and when they had gone to their room, she remarked : 

thought these daily devotions would have an- 
noyed you, Nathanael; and I was planning to per- 
suade our kind sisters to let each one say prayers in 
private.’^ 

beg of you, Sophy, do nothing of the kind!’’ 
exclaimed Nathanael, quickly. “You do not under- 
stand what this religion is to them.” 

“No?” questioned Sophy, raising her pretty eye- 
brows and looking curiously at her husband. Then, 
as he said no more, she remarked, placidly: “My 
thought was only to save you from being wearied; 
but I will be as discreet and silent as the hills. In 
good truth, I like it myself, as I like everything in 
this strange, new country.” 

Mistress Sophy, in her universal contentment with 
all the ways of her new relations, showed a great deal 
of wisdom, for the result was that they looked with 
indulgent toleration on all her ways ; and when she 
began to make acquaintance among the neighbors, and 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


33 


to feel somewhat at home in her new surroundings, she 
found no one much inclined to find fault, or to thwart 
her in the carrying out of her own will. The little 
lady evidently liked gayety and fine clothes ; but, as 
she neither powdered her hair nor put patches on her 
face, Dorothy only smiled a little sadly at the youthful 
folly of bright bows and dainty caps. The gayeties 
were all of a quiet, sober kind ; and Dorothy never 
made any objections if Reuben wanted the pillion on 
the old nag to ride with his aunt Sophy to town, or 
if more frequent invitations than she cared to accept 
came in from their country neighbors, and from their 
friends in the town. 

She appreciated the kind intention to do honor to 
her brother and his wife, but Dorothy cared little 
now for social gatherings; and it soon came to be a 
settled arrangement that she would stay in the house 
with the little Penelope, who was sent to bed every 
night as regularly as the cuckoo clock chimed seven. 
In truth, Penelope had a notion of her own, that the 
hour of bedtime was in some occult way regulated by 
the years of one’s life; and she secretly entertained a 
hope and strong conviction, that when she was eight 
years old, she would be allowed to sit up till eight 
o’clock. Whether at the age of twelve, she would 
reach to that fearful midnight hour which figured so 

largely in the tales her old nurse used to tell her in 

c 


34 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


England, when the clock striking twelve was a signal 
for the appearance of the ghosts, was not yet clear to 
her mind. As her desire to sit up till twelve o’clock 
and take the risk of a meeting with the said ghosts 
was strongest in the broad daylight, and gradually 
waned as the twilight faded, she was content to leave 
that question to be settled in the future. 

Nathanael cared as little as Dorothy for any gaye- 
ties; but he was glad to meet with his neighbors and 
to renew some of his boyhood’s friendships; and he 
sought anxiously for information concerning the dark 
clouds that were evidently rising on the political 
horizon. Thus, in the social gatherings in Provi- 
dence, while Sophy was the centre of a merry circle 
of young people, her husband would be found in 
deep discourse with such men as the four brothers, 
John, Joseph, Nicholas, and Moses Brown, over the 
newest tidings from Boston or New York, concerning 
the billeting of British troops on the colonists, now 
that the war was over and their presence in large 
numbers was surely entirely unnecessary; or, again, 
concerning the latest acts of the British Government 
with regard to taxes and restrictions laid on com- 
merce. Nathanael had, of course, heard these ques- 
tions relating to the government of the colonies much 
discussed in England, but it was as a new revelation 
to him to hear the same matters talked over where 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


35 


the effects were plainly visible. The Acts of Par- 
liament, decreeing that the colonies must receive 
tea, glass, woolen goods, and various other articles 
from the mother country, and pay on them a certain 
fixed rate of import duty, appeared in a very different 
light when, instead of merely reading them over at 
the vicarage breakfast-table, he found himself seated 
at a table where tea was no longer used, because 
his host was one of those colonists who held firmly 
to the charter granted by King Charles II. to Rhode 
Island, by which the colonists were given the right 
of being governed by their own Assembly in the 
article of taxes and internal police. He read of 
the Commencement of the Rhode Island College at 
Warren, where all the graduates and the President 
were dressed entirely in garments of American manu- 
facture; and he saw his own sister, scarce six months 
after her husband^s death, wearing no black crape or 
mourning apparel, because such articles could only be 
obtained from England, and by paying the import 
duties; which duties the colonists stoutly maintained 
to be unjust; since they had had no voice in the im- 
position of them. All these things caused Nathanael 
to think deeply ; and it was little wonder that his own 
sturdy love of free play roused him to even greater 
indignation than his friends expressed, because this 
was all so new to him. 


36 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


The non-importation agreement had just been in- 
definitely prolonged by the Providence merchants. A 
few individuals had delayed about signing the agree- 
ment; but the majority were firm in their determina- 
tion to stand by New York and the other colonies; and 
four meetings had been held within two weeks, with 
the result that all the merchants had agreed concern- 
ing the import trade. 

The vessel in which Nathanael and his little family 
had come over, had brought goods contrary to this 
agreement, and they were handed over to a com- 
mittee, to be stored until the repeal of the Towns- 
hend Act should lift the heavy and unjust burden of 
taxation. 

Amid all this eager excitement, caused by a burning 
sense of the injustice of these attempts to wrest from 
the colonists that liberty for the sake of which their 
ancestors had braved the perils and trials of a new 
and savage country, and in daily contact with men 
animated by this spirit, it was not surprising that 
Nathanael could hardly settle to quiet farm life. He 
longed to see and hear more of the working of these 
vexed questions ; and finally he decided to make the 
trip to Boston, while the winter snows still lay heavy 
on the roads. 

When the spring thaw comes on, the roads will be 
almost impassable,’’ he said, in answer to Sophy’s 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


37 


remonstrance; ^^and when the milder weather begins, 
there will be farm work to think of and our own 
plans to settle. So there is undoubtedly no time like 
the present.’^ 

Dorothy agreed with him in this ; and she lamented 
that he would not have the opportunity to see at this 
time the Reverend Hezekiah Smith, as he was absent 
from home. 

^^My father ever esteemed him a young man of 
good parts ; and his godly conversation is like run- 
ning water to the thirsty soul. He would give you a 
warm welcome at Haverhill, were he at home now ; 
but he is absent in the Southern governments. He 
had been appointed to collect money in them to the 
founding of our college building,^^ she said, and her 
grave eyes had the earnest light that always shone in 
them when she mentioned the new college, though her 
hopes and plans were spoken of to none since the day 
she had confided them to Nathanael. 

Thus it came about that Nathanael was away in 
Boston at the time when the final decision as to the 
future home of the new college was reached. The 
contest had been close between Newport and Provi- 
dence; and it had been found a delicate matter to 
judge between the towns that desired this honor. 
Finally it was announced that the preference would 
be given to the one subscribing the largest sum 


38 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


towards the enterprise. At the meeting, in Feb- 
ruary, it was found that Providence had contributed 
four thousand two hundred and eighty pounds, the 
largest sum given unconditionally, and it had also 
other advantages; thus the proud distinction was 
awarded to her, of being the seat of this new semi- 
nary of learning, the first in the new country to be 
mainly under Baptist control. 

Great were the rejoicings in the town ; and in the 
country, such an event must not be allowed to pass 
without being duly honored. Old Mrs. Truefitt, the 
nearest neighbor to the Fythes, who had not been out 
of doors since the beginning of the new year, was 
tempted by an afternoon of clear winter sunshine and 
this choice piece of news, left at her door by a neigh- 
bor who had ridden out from Providence, to walk 
over to the old Fythe House and see the ^^girls,’^ as 
she still called the widow and her sister. 

Mrs. Truefitt and her piece of news were very 
kindly received, and as Dorothy’s hospitality would 
have been put sorely to the blush had her guest gone 
home before supper, it was settled that Beuben should 
take her home by moonlight in the sledge. The bare 
mention of the moonlight drive set Mistress Sophy’s 
bright eyes dancing, and she had quietly whispered to 
Reuben to make room for Mercy and herself before 
Mrs. Truefitt’s reluctance to stay was fully overcome. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


39 


The good lady was then ushered up-stairs and her 
bonnet and shawl deposited in the best bedroom, 
while, from a basket that she carried with her, a 
portentous cap was carefully extracted and placed on 
her head. 

Mamma, if she meant only to run in for a minute, 
why did she bring her cap ? ” whispered Penelope. 

Silly child, why do people always tell fibs ? ’’ 
retorted her mother, too well pleased with the novelty 
in store for her to pay much heed to the child ; and 
Penelope retired to her corner to ponder over that 
question. 

The beauty of the afternoon had gone ofP, and the 
sun set behind banked-up clouds, from which feathery 
flakes began to float down, before the twilight had 
fairly darkened the sky. It would evidently be no 
moonlight drive that night; but Mistress Sophy was 
young, and in a gay mood. Little she cared for 
snow and darkness ; the time had hung heavy since 
NathanaePs departure, and in her pretty, willful way, 
she was set on this frolic. Dorothy expostulated, 
but there was really no harm; so with a gravely in- 
dulgent smile, she let the little creature have her own 
way. Old Mrs. Truefitt hardly liked the gay party, 
and evidently had-but little faith in Keuben’s driving, 
for she insisted on sitting beside him, while Sophy and 
Mercy were tucked into the seat behind. Wrapped 


40 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


in warm cloaks and hoods, and bundled up in furs, 
of which there was a large supply at the Fythe 
House, bought from the neighboring Indians, the cold 
of the winter night raised the spirits and tinged the 
cheek with a deeper glow. Reuben, always proud 
and pleased to do his aunt Sophy’s bidding, had his 
enjoyment slightly marred by the strong inclination 
shown by Mrs. Truefitt to cling to his arm at each 
short turn in the road, or slight bounce on a bit of 
frozen snow. He bore this, however, with great 
equanimity, looking forward to the homeward drive ; 
but, alas, just as they were turning from the high 
road, to draw up at the little porch of Mrs. Truefitt’s 
house, some one inside moved a candle to the window, 
sending out a stream of light, which perhaps dazzled 
the horse’s eyes, or else the tramp of another horse 
approaching frightened Mrs. Truefitt, and made her 
lean over and cling to Reuben’s arm. Whatever 
might be the cause was never clearly explained ; but 
the sledge tipped. Mrs. Truefitt screamed, and 
Reuben threw his weight to the side that appeared so 
dangerously raised. The horse started forward sud- 
denly, and the sledge regained its level, and came in 
front of the door. But the seat at the back was 
without occupants, and a confused heap of cloaks and 
furs lay in the snowy drift by the road-side. 

Reuben knew that no serious injury was to be 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


41 


feared ; but he was vexed and ashamed, and hurriedly- 
disengaged himself from Mrs. Truefitt. After land- 
ing her safely on her own steps, he turned to help his 
aunts. But they were already on their feet, and were 
being carefully escorted to the house by a stranger 
wrapped in a military cloak ; while the dim outline 
of a horse standing near the fence showed whence the 
stranger had come. 

Ah, that is the way when young blood holds the 
reins,’^ exclaimed Mother Truefitt. ^ Tis a mercy we 
were not all killed. Jenny, Jenny, open the door, 
child,’^ she shouted to her granddaughter within. 

The old dame was slightly deaf, and her eyesight 
was none of the best ; so she had not yet discovered 
that their two companions were not in the sledge. 
But, as the snow-covered figures came within the 
stream of light from the door that Jenny had now 
opened, she began to pour out a torrent of exclama- 
tions and questions, that were suddenly checked by 
the sight of the stranger. 

Sophy^s hood had fallen back, and her pretty, rosy 
face under the tumbled curls and disordered head-gear, 
sparkled with shamefaced merriment. Just as they 
came into the full glare of light, her escort started 
and exclaimed ; 

Sophy Beatoun ! is it possible, or do my senses 
deceive me?’^ 


42 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Sophy also started, and in a moment all her merri- 
ment gave place to an embarrassed surprise. 

Arthur Donnycourt/^ she said, doubtfully. 

I am truly flattered,’’ replied the young officer. I 
could not have ventured to hope that you would know 
me in the dark after all these years. But I have had 
a presentiment for the last half hour that, in spite of 
snow and darkness, I was approaching some singular 
good fortune; and now it is amply fulfilled.” 

This exaggerated tone of compliment, as well as the 
familiar voice, immediately identified to Sophy the 
young man whom she had thus suddenly encountered, 
as a distant cousin, whose father’s estate lay very near 
her old home in England, and who had himself been 
her playmate in childhood. 

Half-vexed and decidedly confused by the upset 
and the unexpected meeting, Sophy was not as quick 
as usual with a reply, when Mrs. Truefitt interrupted, 
saying : 

Mistress Bodman, pray come within doors. You 
have need to adjust your head-gear; and Jenny will 
•make a cup of posset to keep you from taking cold. 
Or, will you have a glass of currant wine to steady 
•your nerves ? Ah, these young lads ! I never knew 
but one — that was my son Ephraim — whom I could 
trust myself to drive with. He was as steady at four- 
teen as at forty.” 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


43 


^^Yes, and as stupid/’ muttered Reuben, who was 
chafing sorely at the mishap and at these innuendoes. 
Then approaching his aunt, he said in a low, vexed 
tone, ^^Aunt Sophy, have none of the posset, ’tis de- 
testable stuiF.” 

^^Nay, nay,” replied Sophy, quickly; am none 
the worse, and need nothing; but I will just go inside 
and adjust my hood and thank the good dame.” She 
spoke in low tones; but her voice was lower still as 
she turned to the young man and said: truce 

to nonsense, Arthur, these are my husband’s kin.” 
Then hastily she withdrew her hand from his arm 
and escaped into the house, leaving Mercy, who was 
still clinging to his arm, and who had been the only 
one to overhear distinctly the words that had passed 
between them. 

The truth was, that poor Mercy had received the 
brunt of the fall, and it was only because she had a 
strong arm to cling to that she had managed to walk 
these few steps. She was now sorely vexed at the 
pliglit in which she found herself, and she strove to 
withdraw her hand. Young Donnycourt, in his first 
surprise at recognizing Sophy, had paid but little heed 
to his other charge. Now a slight exclamation, that 
was hardly more than a catching of the breath, made 
him look at her more closely. 

You are hurt,” he exclaimed, as he saw the pucker 


44 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


on her brow and the pale cheeks. Reuben did not 
catch these words, for at the same moment he called 
out : 

I thank you, good sir, for your timely assistance. 
Aunt Mercy, will you get into the sledge while I 
fetch the furs?’^ 

He ran back to the spot where they lay in a dark 
heap on the snow, and at the same time, seeing that 
the stranger’s horse, which had been unheeded since he 
leaped from its back, with hanging bridle, was begin- 
ing to move uneasily, he caught him, thinking that 
one good turn deserved another. Thus a few mo- 
ments elapsed ere he returned to the sledge, with the 
bridle over one arm, and the furs over the other. 

Mercy, finding herself thus thrown on the hands of 
the stranger, called up all her resolution, and said, 
bravely : 

It is naught, sir, I assure you. A mere trifiing 
bruise ; if you will kindly assist me, I will get into 
the sledge, as we must not be delayed in our return.” 

Domiycourt did as she requested, but with some 
expostulations, for he feared that she was really hurt. 
She however would not own it, and when settled in 
the sledge, cut short his anxious inquiries and sugges- 
tions with the words : 

Pray, sir, give no farther thought to the matter, 
and do not alarm my nephew and my sister-in-law. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


45 


Any farther delay in our return home would be very 
irksome to me.’^ 

As Reuben now returned with Donny court’s horse, 
while, at the same moment, Sophy came forth, well 
muffled for the homeward ride, he could only ac- 
quiesce in silence. Thanks and farewells were ex- 
changed, and mingled with these was old Dame 
Truefitt’s repeated and pressing invitation, that he 
would come in and taste her currant wine, or take a 
little mulled cider, which did excellently well to keep 
out the cold. In another minute Arthur Donnycourt 
was standing alone with old Dame Truefitt, listening 
to the creak of the snow under the runners, as the 
sledge rapidly glided away into the darkness. 

Vexed with himself that he had not learned more 
about these ladies, and craved permission to pay his 
respects to them ; and urged, it must be owned, by a 
little of Mother Eve’s curiosity concerning these new 
relations of Sophy’s, — he accepted Dame Truefitt’s in- 
vitation. Over the mulled cider he plied the old 
dame with so many questions that her gossip-loving 
nature became wonderfully alert, and she in her turn, 
drew a good deal more information from him than he 
either gave or dreamed of. His explanation that he 
was a cousin to Mistress Sophy and but little ac- 
quainted with her husband, was quite enough for the 
eager gossip to build on, and quite too simple for her 


46 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


to believe. Cousin is a convenient title she decided 
in her own oracular mind. 

I could see it was a shock to him to find that she 
is married. Poor fellow, a nice, well-mannered young 
man, and handsome too.^' 

It might have surprised her if she could have looked 
into his thoughts as he pursued his way to Provi- 
dence, and have seen that they were mainly occupied 
over a certain mild and gentle face, with pale cheeks 
and grey eyes tearful with pain, while the firmly com- 
pressed mouth resolutely battled against these out- 
ward signs of suffering. In fact all the preoccupa- 
tion of mind, noted by Dame Truefitt’s observant eye, 
was due to the fact that he ardently desired to see that 
fair face again. But as he happened to know that he 
was no favorite with Nathanael ; and as his cousin had 
not given him any invitation to call on her, — he was a 
little embarrassed how to proceed. Now, whilst he 
was debating the question whether he should risk a 
cool reception and boldly search out the house in the 
morning to inquire for his cousin, he found that his 
horse was growing unusually restive. At length, 
when Arthur strove to put him to a more rapid pace, 
he swerved to the left so suddenly that a less skilled 
rider would have run a good chance of being seated 
in the snow. 

Donnycourt leaned forward to examine bridle and 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


47 


bit; but in the darkness he could discover nothing 
amiss, and finally he dismounted to examine the 
horse’s hoofs. As he stooped, his hand touched some- 
thing soft that swung against the horse’s legs as he 
moved. It was evidently hanging from the right 
stirrup, and on going round to that side Donnycourt 
discovered a little velvet bag entangled in the stirrup 
leather. It was such an extraordinary solution of the 
mysterious antics of his horse, that the young man 
laughed aloud as he detached it. But the next 
moment he checked his laughter and gave a low 
whistle of surprised pleasure, for here was the very 
opportunity he sought. The bag must belong to one 
of the ladies; and doubtless, as Reuben caught the 
horse and then gathered up the wraps and the furs, 
this little bag had become entangled in the stirrups. 
Of course, Arthur Donnycourt could do no less than 
wait upon the ladies to return it; and he thought to 
himself that with such an opening it would be his 
own fault if he did not get a chance to see more of 
the young maiden whose quiet resolution had attracted 
him, perhaps as much as her fair face. 


CHAPTER IV. 


CAPTAIN DONNYCOUET’s VISITS. 

^ /PERCY never had any very clear recollection 
how they got through that short drive home. 
Sophy, intent upon soothing Reuben, who she well 
knew felt mortified and vexed, chattered gayly to 
him without taking note of Mercy’s silence. Reuben 
himself was too well used to a roll in the snow with 
his Aunt Mercy, in the days when he w^as a little 
toddler and she was a growing girl, to imagine that 
she, who w’as to the manner born, could have been 
hurt when Sophy, the stranger, had escaped unin- 
jured. Thus it w^as not till they reached home and 
Mercy made an ineffectual attempt to get out of the 
sledge, that they found she was suffering. 

Dorothy was at the door, and in a very short time, 
with the aid of Reuben’s sturdy arm and Dorothy’s 
more skillful assistance, she w^as conveyed into the 
house. 

Sophy was w^arm' in sympathetic praises of her 
bravery, and eager to do something to relieve her, 
though with very little idea how to set about it. 

“ Do you feel faint? Let me get my smelling- 
48 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


49 


bottle. Where are you hurt ? Oh ! she exclaimed, 
as Dorothy took off Mercy’s shoe and stocking and 
revealed a bruised and swollen ankle. What shall 
we do ? Is there a doctor near ? ” 

“ To bathe it and bandage it will be the best thing; 
and I thank the Lord that we have no need of a doc- 
tor to do that,” answered Dorothy, a little proudly. 
^^Good Dr. Vanderlight used to say, that no one 
could set a bandage like our mother, and that I took 
after her in skill in nursing.” 

^‘Bandages! yes, of course,” said Sophy eagerly. 
^^Take my handkerchief. But where is my reticule? 
I had both handkerchief and smelling-salts in it.” 

While she searched about for the reticule, Dorothy, 
who had her stores of old linen and other necessa- 
ries always ready, and who was half offended at the 
thought of tearing up a good cambric handkerchief, 
had brought hot water and prepared the bandages. 

Never mind the smelling-salts. Sister Sophy. In 
truth, I am not over-fond of that little bottle; it catches 
my nose,” said Mercy, who had once, through curi- 
osity, sniffed at it. ^Mf you will help me to unfasten 
my cloak and hood, it will ease me greatly; for they 
are burdensome in this warm room.” 

Sophy, with her usual versatility, forgot all about 
the missing reticule, and was soon entirely absorbed 

in the little bustle of getting Mercy settled for the 
D 


50 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


night in the spare bedroom, which was on the ground 
floor. The reticule did not come to mind again until 
on the following day Dorothy came into the room, 
where Sophy was helping to beguile the time for 
Mercy, to tell her that Captain Donnycourt was 
inquiring for her. 

Dorothy was not overpleased, for the uniform of 
the King’s soldiers was not looked upon with any 
more favor in the colony of Rhode Island and Provi- 
dence Plantations, than among their neighbors of 
Boston and Massachusetts Colony. The fact that 
Sophy rose with a little smile and a heightened color 
to go to receive the young man did not at all diminish 
her dissatisfaction. 

Sophy was in doubt whether to laugh or to be 
vexed that Arthur had sought her out. He amused 
her, and she was used to his gallant, trifling ways. 
But she knew that Nathanael did not like him, and 
indeed she herself did not like him as well since she 
compared his manners with those of her husband. 
Still he amused her, and when she reached the parlor 
and he met her with his bright eyes and face glowing 
with unusual earnestness, as he inquired for the health 
of Miss Fythe, she found herself unwittingly launch- 
ing out into warm praises of Mercy’s heroism in 
bearing pain, and Arthur listening so attentively that 
she forgot her vexation. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


51 


When he rose to take leave and remarked that his 
duties would detain him a few days longer in Provi- 
dence before he pursued his journey to Boston, she 
readily gave him the permission that he requested to 
wait upon them again, in order to inform himself 
concerning the recovery of Miss Fythe. 

Sophy, it must be confessed, forgot the permission 
almost as readily as she gave it. She had truly a 
giddy little brain except where her alfections were en- 
gaged, and although she had reckoned up to a minute 
the time when Nathanael might possibly return, she 
paid so little heed to the prospect of another visit 
from Arthur, that she did not mention it to either 
Dorothy or Mercy. 

The next day was the Lord’s Day, and the arrange- 
ment had been made that they should go to the Bap- 
tist Church in Providence and afterward dine accord- 
ing to invitation at Mr. Joseph Brown’s. He was 
the only one of the four brothers who was a member 
of the Baptist Church, although they all took a 
liearty interest in its welfare. Sophy had gone a few 
times to the Episcopal Church, but Nathanael gener- 
ally on one pretext or another did not accompany 
her and he had only gone to the Baptist Cluirch to 
please his sister Dorothy. There he met with Mr. 
Joseph Brown, who was an electrician and astronomer 
of no small repute, and well versed in mechanics. 


52 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


In the company of such a man Nathanael found 
much to interest him, and it soon became an habitual 
and settled thing that they should all go to hear the 
Reverend Samuel Winsor, at the Baptist Church, on 
the Lord^s Day morning, and frequently they dined 
afterwards at Mr. Joseph Brown’s. 

I would it were a better motive that drew him,” 
said Dorothy to Mercy; ‘‘but if the seed falls, none 
can tell how soon it may take root and spring up.” 

As for Sophy, it might be truly said that her 
whole religion was to please her husband. When he 
preached at Rodmanhurst she sat in the vicarage pew, 
listening devoutly and admiringly ; when he went to 
the Baptist Church in Providence she went too, and 
thought that, on the whole, though he did not occupy 
the prominent position that he filled in England, it 
was even more gratifying to have him sitting by her 
side finding the places for her in the Bible. 

Now that he was away the Sunday meeting had no 
longer the same charm for her, but she was going on 
this Lord’s Day with Dorothy. Mercy insisted that 
they should both go, saying, that her foot was much 
better and that with little Penelope’s aid she could do 
very well. 

Sophy’s surprise was very great when she saw 
Arthur Donnycourt’s brilliant uniform in a pew not 
far from Mr. Joseph Brown’s. After the benediction 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


53 


wa^s pronounced and as they were leaving the church 
he came forward with the evident intention of ad- 
dressing her, and then she discovered that he had 
made the acquaintance of Mr. Brown and was also 
invited to dine at his house. 

Donnycourt had that quick and versatile mind 
which delights to dabble a little in everything new. 
He knew just enough of astronomy to talk fluently 
concerning the transit of Venus, of which Mr. Brown 
had taken such diligent and successful observations on 
the preceding third of June. He had also seen new 
electrical instruments in London, shortly before his 
regiment was ordered to America, and thus he was at 
no loss for conversation. Mistress Dorothy, however, 
was ill-pleased, but she showed it only by an unusually 
quiet and reserved demeanor, and Sophy was not 
quick to note it. Reuben was, on the contrary, 
greatly taken with the gay young officer. He had 
drunk in many tales of English life, which Sophy 
was ever ready to relate, in order to while away an 
idle hour, and now he was eager to get a chance to 
question one who had evidently seen a good deal of 
life, and that a much more stirring life than was 
afforded by the planting and harvesting in summer, 
and the routine farm-work, interspersed wdth study in 
winter, which had hitherto occupied Reuben’s days on 
the Fythe farm. In the presence of his elders, the 


54 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


boy had been too well trained not to hold his peace; 
and Donnycourt was not likely to touch on any very 
stirring adventures in his discourse w'ith the refined 
and learned Mr. Joseph Brown. But he noticed the 
eager face of the bright-eyed lad, and made opportu- 
nities to speak a few pleasant words to him. In short, 
Arthur Donnycourt tried to please, and he did please 
everybody but Mistress Dorothy, who was much re- 
lieved when the young officer had made his adieux. 

Her surprise and discomfiture were therefore very 
great when, the next afternoon, as she was tidying up 
after her Monday’s work, which was heavier than 
usual now that Mercy was laid up, she heard his voice 
in the parlor. A fire had been made there and Mercy 
was installed on the sofa ; because, as Dorothy re- 
marked, she would never stay on the settee in the 
kitchen while work was going on about her. The 
injury to her ankle was of that inconvenient nature 
which, while it did not absolutely render her unable 
to walk, might become really serious if she took no 
care of it. 

Thus it came about that when the young officer 
was shown into the parlor by Reuben, who met him 
at the door, he found the very person whom he 
most wished to see, ensconced there a prisoner on 
the sofa. Mercy, out of the few words she had over- 
heard, had woven for him the same little romance 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


55 


that old Mrs. Truefitt had more elaborately con- 
cocted by dint of skillful questioning. There was, 
however, a great difference; for while the old dame 
had merely chuckled over a choice bit of gossip, the 
childlike and tender-hearted maiden was nourishing 
a deep pity for the hidden sorrow that, she supposed, 
had been inadvertently revealed to her. 

The fact that he came again to the house led her 
to the conclusion that Sophy had never known 
aught of his feelings, and she was even vexed at 
the careless manner in which that giddy little 
matron addressed him when she came in from the 
kitchen, with a big apron enveloping her trim little 
figure and her sleeves rolled up over her dimpled 
elbows, making a great show of work after the 
fashion of those merry little people who never do 
enough of it to spoil the cliarm of novelty. 

Arthur Donnycourt, however, was at that moment 
very well content with his lot. He discoursed of 
Mr. Winsor’s sermon to Mercy; argued very sen- 
sibly on the much-debated question of singing in the 
church, and took great interest in all the prospects 
of the new college. The only references to his own 
life were occasional slight allusions, apparently 
almost unintentional on his part and quickly 
turned aside, as if he considered himself and his 
comrades a sad lot, not worthy of the attention of 


56 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


this good, gentle, innocent maiden. Doubtless this 
was very true, and probably the young man himself 
sincerely felt at the moment the vast difference 
between their lives; but he could hardly have used 
a more potent spell to arouse Mercy’s interest. 

The entrance of Sophy scarcely interrupted their 
conversation; but when a little later Dorothy and 
Penelope appeared the atmosphere changed subtly. 
Dorothy had been busy all the morning with her 
usual housework, but she looked as neat as if she had 
been doing nothing more laborious than stitching the 
frills for her brother’s shirts, over which, in truth, 
little Penelope under her supervision had been prick- 
ing her left hand forefinger. The force of her dis- 
like to young Donnycourt’s presence was considerably 
diverted and dissipated by the amazed disapprobation 
excited by the sight of Sophy’s attire. It was close 
upon the dinner hour, and her sense of hospitality 
would not allow her to withhold the invitation to 
share a meal with them, which in her father’s days 
w^as always pressed upon a guest. Donnycourt, how- 
ever, saw that it would be wiser to take leave as 
speedily as was consistent with civility; he therefore 
pleaded an engagement in the town, but he at the 
same time adroitly slipped in a wedge to ensure the 
continuance of intercourse. 

I am unfortunate in not having the pleasure of 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


57 


meeting Mr. Rodman, whose knowledge and judg- 
ment I can at least appreciate, though he, doubtless, 
looks upon me as a sad scatter-braiu. May I be per- 
mitted to call when he returns if, as I hope, my 
duties should allow me to remain in Providence a few 
days longer?” he asked, and his deferential air won 
a reluctant consent from Dorothy. Sophy was not 
well pleased with the tone of the compliment to her 
husband, but she knew Arthur too well to make great 
account of his speeches, and she only replied care- 
lessly : 

^^Oh, yes, come again. Nathanael will be very 
glad to see you, and you can discuss the latest news 
from Boston. He will probably return to-morrow.” 

Indeed, Sophy, I think that is hardly possible,” 
interposed Dorothy. I should not expect him be- 
fore Wednesday or Thursday; and, you know, he 
said he might be detained three weeks.” 

I call it a month already since he left,” answered 
Sophy petulantly. But and even if he be not re- 
turned, we shall be pleased to see you, if you bring 
not tea, or stamped paper, or any other of those red 
rags to provoke us withal.” 

At this juncture Donnycourt wisely made his exit 
with a respectful bow. Indeed the door had hardly 
closed after him, when Dorothy^s feelings found 
speech. 


58 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Stamped paper, indeed ! As if the veriest child 
knew not that the iniquitous Stamp Act was repealed 
four years ago. And in truth, Mistress Rodman, I 
think you would be better employed in arranging 
your gown than in discussing matters of legislation 
with a young officer of the King’s troops, in flour- 
dusted apron and tucked-up sleeves.” 

Nay, Sister Dorothy, to my eyes he wore but a 
very proper uniform,” answered Sophy demurely. 
Then seeing that Dorothy looked both puzzled and 
vexed, she added coaxingly : Be not too hard on me, 
good sister, I meant no harm, and there is always 
such good sense in your words that it matters little if 
the sentences are a little mixed. Come, Penelope, we 
must make ourselves as tidy as Aunt Dorothy.” 

She took the little girl’s hand and as her bright 
face and offending apron disappeared from the parlor, 
Dorothy shook her head slowly, saying : 

“ In truth, the child has a better head of the two, 
but Sophy’s heart is warm, and it is to that we must 
look.” And the pucker smoothed out of her brow. 


CHAPTER Y. 


THE SEEDS OF MISCHIEF. 

TTTHEY Arthur Donnycourt closed the house 
door behind him, he found Reuben idly 
cutting twigs from the box-bushes that lined the 
path to the gate. A pleasant nod and word from 
the young man brought the boy quickly to his 
side, and the two walked down to the gate together. 
Arthur had come on foot, and as Reuben remarked 
this and also noted that his company did not seem 
to be disagreeable to the young officer, he could not 
resist the chance to turn the conversation on matters 
more interesting to him than the subjects that 
engrossed either his Aunt Mercy or Mr. Joseph 
Brown. 

^^Stop and see me at the inn, my lad, when you 
are in town,^’ said Arthur in friendly tones, as he 
extended his hand to say good-bye, but Reuben 
replied : 

‘Hf you do not mind, I will walk with you a 
little way.^^ 

Their chat soon drifted on military life, and 

Reuben drank in eagerly all the anecdotes of camp 

59 


60 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


and field that Donnycourt’s easy and upright narra- 
tion made particularly attractive to an imaginative, 
fearless boy. 

‘^Mother wants me to study, he said at last; 
^^but, oh, I w'ould choose to be like the old knights 
of whom Aunt Sophy tells me. She knows so many 
tales about the old pictures in her father’s home 
and at Rodmanhurst. There was one old baron 
who could not even write his name, but you should 
hear her tell of the battles he fought.” 

^^Aye, aye, Roland Donnycourt,” said Arthur, 
laughing, well do I know the history of the old 
rascal; he is an ancestor of mine too. He was 
always, I remember, a favorite with your aunt 
Sophy, and she inspired me ” 

He broke off suddenly to raise his hat to old 
Mrs. Truefitt, who met them as they turned a corner, 
then as she passed on, he continued : 

too thought him a fine fellow in those days; 
but now, I confess, I think he must have been a quar- 
relsome old knave; and I much prefer to be able to 
sign my name and even to write a letter if I am so 
minded without being obliged to call in the aid of a 
scribe.” 

Reuben did not exactly like the bantering tone of 
this last remark. He was very sensitive to either 
praise or ridicule. Serious blame he often took with 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


61 


good-humored carelessness, but to be laughed at was 
more than he could stand, and this jesting tone caused 
him to remember what he had hitherto overlooked, 
that it was already past his dinner hour. He there- 
fore said good-bye to his companion, wdio pursued his 
way to the town with a light heart and a brain filled 
with visions of a gentle, fair-faced maiden. 

Far too good for a scamp like me,’^ he muttered 
to himself, but at the same time he meditated with 
satisfaction that he had a much clearer record to look 
back on, than most young men of his age and calling. 
He had jet to learn the meaning of the words He 
that gathereth not with me scattereth abroad,” and 
little he imagined what seed might be reaped from 
thoughtless words. 

^^Why is it,” thought Reuben as he strode im- 
patiently along the hard-beaten snow, ^^that people 
always make light of what they have? He pretends 
to think lightly of his ancestors, but here am I, the 
son of a farmer, the grandson of a minister, who 
worked at carpentering to make a living, when first 
he began to preach; and if I go back farther, they 
are still farmers or carpenters, digging and working 
hard. Would he exchange with me and take my 
chance of farming and studying in humdrum monot- 
ony like my ancestors before me? Why, even little 
Penelope has something to be proud of, that she 


62 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


comes of a race of warriors, \vhile I — ’’ he broke 
off aud stamped the snow as he knitted his brows 
petulantly. But somebody must make a begin- 
ning; and why should not I? Mother would not 
force me to study or to farm if I told her that 
I hated it.’’ 

Sophy’s hand had prepared the soil and Arthur had 
dropped the seed, but nobody’s appetite was disturbed 
that day by any thoughts of the consequences ; and 
even Reuben himself over his savory dish of broth 
and steaming dumplings forgot for the time his mili- 
tary ardor. 

Old Mrs. Truefitt had stopped to recommend a 
lotion for Mercy’s ankle, but her memory of the 
lotion had been quickened by her shrewd suspicion 
that the young officer was coming from a visit to 
young Mistress Rodman. 

That young man’s thoughts and speech run too 
much on ^ Aunt Sophy,”’ she thought to herself as she 
heard his words to Reuben. But it is no affair of 
mine,” and having reached that very true conclusion, 
she immediately followed it up by stopping at the 
Fythe Farm to pick up any stray crumbs of informa- 
tion about the young man’s visit. 

Sophy had been all her life a spoiled pet, but she 
was too sweet-tempered and loving to grow as impe- 
rious and disagreeable as spoiled pets often become. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


63 


She was, however, ruled only by her natural disposi- 
tion to be pleasant even to mere acquaintances, and by 
her own strong affection for those who loved her. 

When Mrs. Truefitt began to talk about the young 
officer she only tossed her curly head with a little 
laugh and demurely remarked : 

‘^Doubtless, there is attraction, for a soldier used 
only to tents or barrack life, when he finds opportu- 
nity to spend an hour in a gentlewoman’s parlor.” 

Doubtless, doubtless,” said the old dame, nodding 
her head, and adding in a lower tone, ^^He came not 
again to taste of my currant wine,” 

Dorothy caught the words imperfectly, but she 
wisely followed the good rule where gossips are con- 
cerned that ^Hhe least said is the soonest mended.” 

The days slipped by, and the March winds were 
careering wildly in from the Bay before Nathanael re- 
turned. The young captain came and went with a fre- 
quency that was noted even by less prying eyes than 
Dame Truefitt’s. But he did not meet Mr. Rodman, 
for the very day before Nathanael returned, he took 
a hasty leave of his friends in Providence, and de- 
parted on his way to New York. At the news of his 
departure Sophy shrugged her shoulders, and care- 
lessly said : 

^^Aye, aye, here to-day and gone to-morrow, that is 


64 


m COLONIAL DAYS. 


Arth\U’ Donuycourt’s way. ^Tis what makes army 
life so finely to his taste.” 

Dorothy said nothing, but heaved a sigh of relief, 
only Mercy’s gentle face looked troubled. 

The next day they had very different matter to fill 
their minds, for just as they were rising from their 
early dinner, the thud of hoofs outside caused Mis- 
tress Sophy to run hastily to the door to welcome 
back her husband. 

He had hardly time to answer one or two of her 
quick and wide-reaching questions, comprehending in 
two minutes all topics from the state of affairs in 
Boston, to the state of his appetite at the present mo- 
ment, when a new arrival intruded himself upon their 
reunion, in the person of a short, apple-cheeked 
young man, with pleasant, honest, blue eyes, but a 
sadly bashful manner that allowed one rarely to get 
a glimpse of those eyes, so steadfastly did he survey 
the floor. 

Sophy was provoked that she could not have her 
husband to herself in these first moments of his return 
from a long journey, but she was not so much ab- 
sorbed in her own affairs as not to notice the pleas- 
ant greeting that Dorothy gave to the new-comer as 
she came forward and introduced him as Jonathan 
Pursell ; she also caught the fleeting look of vexation 
which passed over Mercy’s face. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


65 


‘^Matters in Boston are bad enough/’ said Nathanael, 
as they all entered the dining-room where a glorious 
fire was blazing on the hearth. There has been 
trouble between the soldiers and the towns-people.” 

What is it all about ? ” asked Sophy anxiously. 

Were you in danger? Were you hurt?” 

I ? Oh, no ! but there are five dead, and as many 
more wounded,” replied Nathanael. 

Jonathan Pursell, who had been sitting with down- 
cast eyes since Mercy had coolly answered his first at- 
tempt to address her, and then had taken herself off 
to attend to getting dinner on the table for her 
brother, now looked up and remarked : 

I have heard something of this massacre, Mr. 
Kodman. I doubt there will never be peace in that 
town as long as these useless red-backs are kept loung- 
ins: about where there is no need of them. Thev 
have had naught but troubles since General Gage sent 
these idle loungers to strut like turkey-cocks about 
the peaceable town.” 

His indignation made the young man forget his 
bashfulness; and Sophy was surprised to see how dif- 
ferent he looked when his face became lighted up with 
intelligence and decision. 

^^Aye, there have been sore troubles. They have 
been brewing long, and in my opinion the towns-folk 

sought to provoke what they got,” said Nathanael. 

E 


66 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Sought to provoke the soldiers to fire on them in 
cold blood, as they did last Monday night? Nay, 
nay, Mr. Rodman,’^ replied Jonathan. 

‘M^ll not say that,^’ interposed Nathanael; ^^biit 
you yourself can judge how you would like to be 
ever assailed with rude jests and nicknames.’^ 

^^And what would you say of me if I answered 
the rudest jests or abuse by firing into a crowd of un- 
armed men? Boston will never forget her dead and 
wounded citizens, and the night of the fifth of March 
was a bad one for British rule,’’ said Jonathan with 
a sternness that he hardly seemed caj^able of when 
seen unmoved by aught except self-consciousness. 

During the eager conversation that followed, Mercy, 
having placed the dinner on the table, slipped out of 
the room. Pursell, who had been hospitably pressed 
to sit down with Nathanael, glanced several times 
towards the door, and by degrees relapsed into his 
former shy awkwardness. At last he rose to go, but 
still Mercy had not re-appeared. Dorothy quietly 
left the room and went up-stairs to seek her sister. 

‘^Come down, Mercy,” she said; Jonathan is just 
going. What possessed you to come up to this cold 
room? You are all red and blue with cold.” 

wanted to mend the fagoting in this pillow- 
case,” replied Mercy, as she carefully darned her 
needle into the bit of linen drawn-work. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


67 


‘‘Well, put it down now and come and say good- 
bye to Jonathan. It passes me, why you did not 
bring your work-basket down to the fireside,” said 
Dorothy impatiently as she went down-stairs again. 

Mercy followed obediently, but the good-bye that 
she accorded to Jonathan Pursell was as chilling as 
were the blue numbed fingers that she allowed him to 
take for a moment in his own. 

Sophy’s quick eyes were taking note of everything; 
and even Nathanael had noticed the young man’s fre- 
quent glances toward the door, and his evident desire 
to win a friendly glance when Mercy entered. 

“ He is a wheelwright,” explained Dorothy, after 
he had gone. “ His father was an old friend of our 
father, and Jonathan has good parts.” 

“ He is as awkward as a school-boy who is afraid of 
a caning,” said Reuben, coming in from the stable, 
where he had been attending to the visitor’s horse. 

“May- be he hath cause to be so. May-be you will 
be shy and awkward yourself one of these days, my 
lad,” replied Nathanael, a slight smile flickering over 
his usually grave face, as his eyes followed Mercy, 
who had gone to the kitchen with plates and dishes. 

Who can count how often we do a foolish or even 
a wrong deed, thinking that we will set it right 
directly and no harm will follow ? Then come un- 
foreseen hindrances; we cannot do the setting right; 


68 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


and finally we drift to the catastrophe, bewailing 
the inevitable fate that has overtaken us where no 
harm was intended. 

It was only giddy levity that led Sophy to encour- 
age tlie visits of Captain Donnycourt to the Fythe 
House, added to which was a little roguish malice, as 
she saw that the gay young officer who had danced 
and coquetted unscathed with many a court belle, was 
rapidly losing his heart to the little New England 
maiden. If any one had prophesied that the matter 
would ever assume a serious aspect, and even cause 
misunderstanding between her husband and herself, 
she would have laughed the idea to scorn with merry 
incredulity. Yet she did not find at once a con- 
venient time to speak to her husband of Arthur 
Donnycourt, and if she had carefully asked herself 
why,’^ she would have discovered that it was because 
she knew that Nathanael was not likely to hear with 
satisfaction of his repeated visits. She however did 
not question. She simply let a possibly disagreeable 
subject alone, and listened with unusual solemnity, 
while her husband spoke of the Boston troubles, of 
which she understood scarcely anything. She thus let 
her amusing, but rather troublesome, cousin slip clean 
out of her volatile little head. If Mercy remembered 
him, she never spoke of him, while Dorothy was too 
glad to be rid of him to care to revive his memory. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


69 


Thus it happened that the fii’st Nathanael heard of 
him was in the tap-room of an inn. He had made 
an appointment to meet his friends, the Browns, in 
Providence, and he had stopped at Olney’s Tavern 
to refresh himself and to stable his horse. 

The tap-room was apparently empty when he 
entered it, but he heard a voice from the other side of 
the broad fireplace, saying : 

They are all a lazy, vicious set, officers and men. 
They may call the Twenty-ninth Regiment worse than 
the others, but I say they are all bad. Was it for 
any good ends that the young red- coat was forever 
dangling after pretty Mistress Sophy Rodman when 
her good man was away in Boston ? ” 

‘^Do you mean Captain Donnycourt?^^ said another 
voice that Nathanael recognized at once as Jonathan 
PurselFs, though it sounded rather constrained and 
unnatural. ‘^Nay, Twas another tale that I heard 
about the visits to the Fythe Farm.” 

A hearty laugh from the first speaker followed 
these words, as he answered bluntly : 

Is that the way the wind sets ? Cheer up, man, 
and never look so chap-fallen. ^Tis not our sweet 
Mistress Mercy, bless her gentle heart, that would 
have aught to say to a roystering young captain of 
dragoons. I was only angered that the good man 
was not there to send the fellow packing with all his 


70 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


gay airs and graces. But never heed my words. I 
would not be like Mother Truefitt and the chip- 
munks, noted for my tale-bearing. This idle talk 
always breeds mischief.^^ 

Nathanael waited to hear no more. He did not 
even wait to get a sight of the men, screened as they 
were by the high back of a wooden settle. He was 
puzzled for a moment to understand the allusion to 
Donnycourt, as he had not thought of him for a 
considerable time. Then as he comprehended more 
clearly, he was surprised, vexed, and hurt; and not 
wishing to show either of these feelings to Pursell and 
his companion, he prudently took himself off. He 
knew very well that anger with him was no flash in 
the pan, and he did not want to get angry about 
such a simple matter as a visit from Sophy’s cousin. 
He cared nothing about young Donnycourt, but he 
was very sensitive to any indications that Sophy 
looked upon him with dread, or with any feeling of 
constraint. Like many a man who knows that he 
has whims and peculiarities, he needed some one by 
whom he could feel sure that he was thoroughly 
understood, and he dreaded any break in that com- 
plete understanding between himself and his wife all 
the more, because he was well aware that at times 
he gave good cause for such a break. Thus, through 
all his talk with Mr. Brown, disagreeable questions 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


71 


would arise. Why had no one told him that Arthur 
Donnycourt had been in Providence? He remem- 
bered that he had growled to Sophy about the 
young jackanapes’^ when he met him in England. 
Was she therefore afraid to tell him that the young 
man had turned up here? He wanted to go home, 
and ask about the matter in straightforward fashion, 
but he was half afraid of himself. Having had for 
so many years to humor the whims of his capricious 
grandfather and his peevish, jealous cousin, had 
taught Jsatlianael to be very taciturn ; and, truth to 
say, had soured him not a little. If he spoke about 
Donnycourt, Sophy might think he was blaming her. 

Having finished his talk with Mr. Brown, he met 
two or three other friends and they were hot and 
eager over the question, whether the troops that had 
been removed outside of Boston since the massacre 
would again be ordered to return within the town ; 
and whether the non-importation laws would be as 
strictly enforced among all the colonies as they were 
in New York. Nathanael had been merely an on- 
looker and somewhat undecided as to which side was 
in the right until the scenes in Boston on the fifth of 
March had roused his indignation. He felt that it 
was an outrage that the soldiers should have been 
ordered to fire upon the people. He entered into the 
discussions of his friends with real and increased in- 


72 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


terest, and at length, almost without intending it, he 
found himself engaging to make a journey to New 
York to find out what measures would be taken there. 

Mistress Sophy had at last had time to recall to 
mind the volatile Captain Donnycourt, and with her 
usual lively impatience, she was longing for her hus- 
band’s return from his ride to pour out to him the ac- 
count of that young man’s visit. When at last he 
rode up to the house he was accompanied by one of 
their neighbors, and in the talk that followed and 
the unwelcome tidings that Nathanael was again to 
be absent on a journey. Captain Donnycourt again 
slipped out of Sophy’s perturbed mind. Penelope 
too was ailing with a cold ; and while Dorothy was 
compounding a treacle posset, Mercy heating bricks for 
the child’s feet, and Sophy coddling and petting her, 
the evening passed away and Nathanael saw no con- 
venient opportunity to ask about what visitors they 
had had during his absence. 

He had not yet decided what to say. In fact, he 
fully expected that Sophy would mention Arthur, and 
since she did not, he was again vexed, and unwilling 
therefore to speak, lest he should show his vexation. 

The next day he found Dorothy alone in the kitchen 
and in sheer desperation he blundered out: 

What ailed you, Dorothy, to let that young British 
captain come gallanting about here in my absence?” 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


73 


Dorothy looked up quickly and stopped her busy 
rolling-pin. 

Indeed, brother, it was an accident that brought 
him here, and well pleased should I have been had 
he kept himself away,’’ she answered rather sharply, 
was no old friend of mine.” 

The emphasis on the last word and the vexed tone 
made Nathanael answer more cautiously: 

‘^Well, well, Dorothy, I meant not to blame; only 
to give a word of warning. Where there are young 
and pretty women, and the good man is away, it is my 
opinion that such gay macaronis should be taught to 
keep their distance.” 

“ I am with you there, brother,” replied Dorothy, 
^^and right glad I was to see him ride off. But in 
truth I think no harm is done, for I have not heard 
his name once, till yesterday, when your wife spoke 
of him, but I gave her little encouragement to pro- 
ceed, for I would far rather that his name were 
forgotten.” 

It was now Nathanael’s turn to feel his pride rise 
wrathfully; for Dorothy spoke anxiously, and he had 
quite forgotten that Mercy filled her thoughts almost 
as completely as his wife filled his. 

Tush, no one here will think twice of him when 
he is gone; unless it be you, Dorothy,” he answered 
shortly. Then he strode to tlie window and stood 


74 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


looking out at the grey clouds streaked with the red 
bars of the windy March sunset. 

Dorothy held her peace and resumed the work of 
preparing supper, and that was all that was said 
concerning Captain Donnycourt. In the evening 
Nathanael worked off a little of his spleen, harmlessly 
as he thought, by dubbing the British officers a lot of 
lazy young rakes in talk with a neighbor who had 
dropped in to enjoy a pipe and a mug of cider. 
Sophy’s color rose a little, but she glanced at Mercy 
who moved her chair a little farther from the candle 
and brought herself into shadow, though she was 
working some fine embroidery. 

That night it was not forgetfulness that kept Mis- 
tress Sophy’s nimble tongue chatting to her husband 
on any other topic than on that of their visitor of the 
preceding weeks. 

^^Men are sure to do just the wrong thing,” she 
argued wisely to herself, ‘^and Nathanael would very 
likely abuse Arthur before Mercy and thus make her 
think twice as much of him. As he is going away, 
and is not likely to hear about Arthur from any one 
else, I will wait till he comes back. And then, with 
this Boston affair less hot on his mind, he can look at 
the matter coolly.” 

Nathanael also held his peace, albeit a little sourly, 
and a day or two later he rode a’way to New York. 


CHAPTER VI. 


NATHANAEL GIVES ADVICE TO JONATHAN PURS ELL. 

IV/TAY Day evening, and, although it was Tuesday 
and not a Lord^s Day evening, a crowd was 
rapidly filling the meeting house in the city of New 
York, in which the Rev. John Gano was accustomed 
to preach. To-night, however, it was in order to 
hear a friend newly returned from the South that 
they were thus assembling. The Rev. Hezekiah 
Smith had arrived in the city only the day before, 
after a tour of some months, which extended to the 
Provinces of the Carolinas and Georgia, for the pur- 
pose of collecting monies to aid the new enterprise 
of the Rhode Island Baptist College. 

Among the listeners seated in a large square pew 
near the pulpit were noticeable the dark and rather 
stern features of Nathanael Rodman, and beside him 
the shy and awkward Jonathan Pursell, his eyes 
downcast and his sandy hair and eyebrows showing 
more distinctly than ever against the heightened glow 
of his naturally ruddy complexion. But after the 
tall figure of the minister rose and the text was 
given out, Jonathan’s whole expression and attitude 

75 


76 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


gradually changed. The words were : A new heart 
also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put 
within you ; and I will take away the stony heart out 
of your flesh, and I will give you a heart of flesh.’^ 
Ezekiel xxxvi. 26. Nathanael, who had come rather 
under protest and merely to please his companion, 
found his attention held at once by the words, and 
by the powerful and commanding voice of the young 
preacher. He was apparently little over thirty, but 
the quiet dignity of his manner, and his thought- 
ful and eloquent speech insured reverent attention. 
Nathanael, though himself deeply interested, could 
not avoid noticing the change in the aspect of his 
companion, who sat upright, every trace of painful 
embarrassment gone, and his blue eyes fixed with 
keen and thoughtful gaze upon the preacher, evi- 
dently drinking in and weighing every word. 

^^He is really a manly fellow when he is interested, 
and roused,” thought Nathanael, for perhaps the 
twentieth time since they had begun their journey 
together, some two weeks before. But his heart is 
not in the wheelwright trade.” 

After the sermon, Nathanael expected to leave at 
once, but, to his surprise, the preacher who had 
marked them with his observant glance came directly 
towards them, extending a friendly hand to Jonathan 
with a cordial greeting. Jonathan returned the greet- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


77 


ing with equal cordiality and at once introduced his 
companion. Nathanael spoke with civility, but he 
was annoyed. He was ready to come and listen for 
an hour or two to please Jonathan, but in his own 
mind he had no intention of associating with ‘dis- 
senting preachers,’’ as he termed them, and he had 
always held himself aloof from the pastor of the 
Providence Baptist Church. His temper was not 
improved when he heard Jonathan promise to walk 
home with Mr. Smith, as their roads happened to lie 
in the same direction. On the way, however, he 
became more interested than he chose to own in 
Mr. Smith’s account of his travels in the Southern 
Provinces. Jonathan seemed to be unusually in- 
terested, and he asked many questions about the 
sympathy shown in the welfare of the Rhode Island 
College and the success of Mr. Smith’s collections. 

“I cannot do much to help it on myself,” said 
Jonathan as they were approaching the spot where 
their roads diverged, “but I am very glad to hear 
that other people are taking up the matter ener- 
getically.” 

“Why should not the College do something to 
help ycm on?” asked Mr. Smith. 

Jonathan made rather a stammering reply, and 
after they had said “good-night” and parted, he 
relapsed into his usual embarrassed silence. 


78 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Mr. Smithes tone as he asked the question and 
Jonathan’s manner in replying caused a little idle 
wonderment in Nathanael’s mind, but he was too 
much occupied with thoughts about his own private 
matters, and his interest in public affairs, to spend 
much time in surmises concerning his bashful com- 
panion. His surprise was therefore very great when 
a short time after this first encounter he happened to 
meet Mr. Smith alone and the conversation turned 
upon Jonatlian. 

He is a pleasant fellow when he can shake off his 
shyness and embarrassed air,” said Nathanael. 

Yes,” replied Mr. Smith, ‘^and there is much 
more in him than you would suppose. But he is 
fighting a hard battle, and I am often anxious about 
him, lest he should lose his hold on the right. Some 
years ago Jonathan was baptized by my kind and 
much esteemed friend, the Rev. Ebenezer Fythe, your 
step-father, I believe. The Spirit of the Lord then 
seemed to be leading him to the work of the ministry. 
Then for some reason that I cannot understand he 
seemed to halt and debate. I hope that no evil in- 
fluence is at wmrk.” 

For heaven’s sake do not try to make a preacher 
of the man if he does not want to be one,” exclaimed 
Nathanael. Then seeing his companion’s look of 
surprise and realizing his own discourtesy, he added 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


79 


in gentler tones, I crave your pardon for my rude- 
ness. But I have seen something of those who are 
put to this w^ork when their heart is not in it, and to 
my mind all those that aid or abet such blunders have 
a great deal to answer for. ^Tis a slender chance if a 
man be not thereby set against everything connected 
with the church.” 

You speak truly,” replied Mr. Smith gravely, 
but methinks the man wdio is simply striving to fol- 
low his Master and to work for his glory and the 
advancement of his kingdom will not be tamely led 
by his fellow man. He who enters on the work of 
the ministry from an unworthy reason will surely 
never prosper ; and he who is held back from it by 
unworthy motives will as surely work injury to his 
soul.” 

The words struck home, for Nathanael well knew’ 
that his object had been merely money and a home 
for his intended wife. But he could not take offence, 
for the young minister’s grave and courteous manner 
bore not the slightest indications of any intention to 
give a personal reproof; and for his own part he felt 
conscious that his hasty answer to Mr. Smith’s remark 
had not been free from a tincture of rudeness. 

After a moment’s pause Mr. Smith resumed ; 

I imagine that, as fellow-travelers, you may some- 
times have opportunity for serious discourse with the 


80 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


young man. May I ask tliat you will try to drop a 
timely word of counsel.^^ 

fear that you greatly overrate my ability to 
give advice, or the influence any words of mine would 
carry/’ replied Nathanael ; but he could not refuse to 
give the promise. 

On the Sunday following this conversation 
Nathanael was surprised by a request from Jonathan 
for a little private conversation with him. On the 
previous Sunday, Mr. Smith had preached three times 
from Mr. Gano’s pulpit and Nathanael had been 
attracted, almost against his will, to attend both in the 
morning and the afternoon, but Jonathan went in the 
evening also, and seemed to be so deeply interested 
that Nathanael was tempted to ask him if he could 
not spend the whole day in church. He was there- 
fore surprised to find Jonathan now, apparently in- 
clined to spend the Sunday afternoon in conversation. 
He made no objection, however, and they went out 
together to walk in the pleasant May sunlight. 

Is it because Mr. Smith is away that your fit of 
church going has moderated ? ” asked Nathanael with 
a touch of satire in his tone. 

He has but gone to the Jerseys for a few days,” 
replied Jonathan reddening and twitching his hand 
nervously. He will be back in New York before 
he sets out on his homeward journey.” 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


81 


‘^And then you will again go three times a day to 
meeting/^ said Nathanael. 

‘^Mr. Kodman, you have good cause to think 
meanly of me and of my profession of religion/’ 
began Jonathan after a short pause, in which all 
his natural embarrassment perceptibly increased. 

Doubtless, you have heard of my desire to become 
a minister of the gospel, and my wavering and delay 
can give you but a poor opinion of me.” 

Nay, my friend,” said Nathanael quickly, it is 
far better to delay, and even finally to decide to pur- 
sue another calling, than to take any such step incon- 
siderately, when your heart is not really in it. I 
honor, instead of blaming, such scruples of con- 
science.” 

You mistake me. Mine are no scruples of con- 
science,” said Jonathan in a low tone and averting 
his face. ^^My sentiments towards your sister— my 
hopes — what I could offer to her if she would listen 
kindly.” He was growing more and more confused 
and incoherent, and Nathanael walked on by his side 
in a grave and impassive silence that in no wise aided 
him to collect and choose his words. His tlioughts 
were sufficiently distinct, but the difficulty was to 
express them in such words as would best conceal the 
fault of which he himself was painfully conscious. 

At last, knowing something of the past history of 
F 


82 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


the man he was addressing and counting on his sym- 
pathy Jonathan ended, in sheer desperation, bluntly 
enough : 

In truth, sir, I love your sister, and were I to 
give up my present business, I should have neither 
home, nor means of subsistence to olfer her.^^ 

Am I to understand that my sister has given you 
any right to consider your future as connected with 
her?” asked Nathanael coldly. 

‘^No, no,” replied Jonathan, again stammering in 
his confusion. “ I have not dared — ^it did not seem a 
propitious moment — but, in time, I might win ” 

Nathanael interrupted him sharply. 

^^Then, sir, you mean to say that you wish to be 
assured of the answer my sister would give to your 
suit, before you decide whether you have any call to 
become a minister.” 

His meaning was certainly put clearly enough ; but 
in these bald words it looked badly, and Jonathan 
winced and remained silent, feeling half offended, half 
ashamed. 

“ If you want any opinion from me,” continued 
Nathanael, can only say that, from the short 
acquaintance I have had with my sister, I should not 
imagine that your indecision is likely to increase 
your chances of finding favor in her eyes. What 
effect such indecision will have on your character, in 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


83 


case she should be inclined to listen to you favorably, 
you can probably best appreciate.’^ 

“Mr. Rodman, you are cruel,” exclaimed Jonathan. 
“Can you not make allowances for me? It is a hard 
position.” 

“ Perhaps it is ; yes, I know it is,” said Nathanael, 
thawing from his coldly indifferent manner; “but we 
judge of a man by the way he acts in hard positions. 
If you now drop the work that you feel your con- 
science calls you to, in the hope of winning a wife, 
you will either put your own wishes before your con- 
science in much slighter matters as time goes on, or 
else, you will depend on your wife to be conscience for 
you, and neither way is a true and manly course.” 

He was speaking strongly, much more strongly, 
than he would have spoken had it been a mere out- 
side question ; but, in truth, he was taking a sort of 
grim pleasure in scourging himself over Jonathan’s 
shoulders. 

Jonathan was surprised and indignant. 

“If that is your estimate of me, sir,” he replied, 
“ it would certainly be useless for me to ask your ap- 
probation of my suit ; and perhaps it will be as well 
for me to trouble you no longer with my society at 
present.” 

He was turning away, but Nathanael laid a hand 
on his arm, saying : 


84 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


‘^Stay, Pursell, let us have no folly. I am no 
judge of your matters of church or conscience; and 
as for my sister, she is free to choose for herself. I 
have arrived too recently to expect my opinion to be 
either needed or desired in any question of friendship 
or even warmer feeling towards those who were inti- 
mate with them when I was almost wholly unknown. 
Doubtless, being both of the same creed and persua- 
sion, you can understand each other better than I can 
understand either of you. There is no need that we 
should be wroth over the matter.” 

J onathan rather reluctantly slackened his steps, and 
again walked on by NathanaeFs side. But he was ill 
at ease, and soon made a more amiable excuse to part 
company. He had certainly not expected such an 
answer from a man who wore his religion as loosely 
as did Nathanael ; and it was for that very reason he 
had sought counsel with him instead of with Mr. 
Smith. Though the latter having recently entered 
into the ministry, and being an old friend of Jona- 
than’s, as well as intimately acquainted with Mercy 
and with her father, might be supposed to have better 
qualifications to advise him and to sympathize with 
him. 

Nathanael on his side was inwardly growling at 
himself for interfering in the matter at all. 

‘He is a good fellow, and would no doubt make a 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


85 


kind husband to Mercy, and in these troubled times 
it would be well if she were settled. What do I care 
about their preaching and preachers! Between him 
and Mr. Smith I have been making a fool of myself.’’ 
Thus he thought to himself rather angrily, but he 
wound up with the reflection, After all, he is too 
simple-hearted and conscientious to be happy if he 
goes against what he thinks to be right, and that is 
just the thing that makes me like him. 

^^Now if Rupert and his wife had not been so de- 
testably supercilious and disagreeable, I might have 
been still preaching sermons in Bodmanhurst Church 
on matters that I know and care nothing about,” 
and he struck at a pebble with a stick that was in his 
hand as viciously as if it were the self that he took a 
morbid delight in sneering at. In fact, Nathanael 
had never succeeded in stifling his conscience, or in 
feeling himself fitted for his position, and it was only 
his love for his wife and his feeling of duty to his 
grandfather that made it at all endurable. When 
Rupert’s wife made herself exceedingly disagreeable 
to Sophy, and his grandfather was no longer living to 
be annoyed by his departure, he willingly made use 
of the moderate sum left to him in Sir Peter’s will, 
to transport himself and his family to the New 
World. 


CHAPTER yil. 


JONATHAN PURSELHS DECISION. 


ONATHAN PURSELHS was the very reverse 



^ of a morbid nature. He was sensitive to blame 
or ridicule, but his healthy spirit and simple Chris- 
tianity made him reap the good without the evil effect 
of such sensitiveness. 

When on the following day he came to say that his 
business in New York w^as ended, and he intended to 
start for home on the following morning, his manner 
was so entirely free from pique that it was impossible 
for Nathanael to imagine that any feeling of offended 
dignity was causing him to hasten his return. He 
set it down rather to Jonathan’s desire to have an 
explanation with Mercy and to learn his fate. As for 
Nathanael himself, he was feeling both morbid and 
irritated. His business in New York was finished 
also, and he might as well have returned with Jona- 
than, but he delayed for no better reason than is often 
to be found when a man is not on good terms with 
himself and has nothing particular to do. He con- 
tented himself with sending a letter to Sophy, saying 
that he might be back shortly, but fixing no date. 

In the little household at the Fythe Farm matters 


86 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


87 


had not gone on comfortably since Nathanael’s de- 
parture. Penelope’s slight cold had grown worse and 
fever had vset in. Old Dame Truefitt, the oracle of 
the neighborhood in all cases of illness, predicted 
scarlet fever, and Dorothy was greatly disturbed, 
for neither Mercy nor Reuben had had the fever. 

^^Let them both come over to our house,” said old 
Mrs. Truefitt, and I will come here and help you to 
nurse the child.” 

Mercy was inclined to rebel against this arrange- 
ment, since she was very fond of little Penelope, and 
she did not like the Truefitts. While the question 
was still undecided, an invitation came for Mercy to 
acc(5mpany Mrs. Brown to visit friends in Newport. 

^Mt will be just the change that Mercy needs,” said 
Dorothy. ‘^She has been looking pale and down- 
hearted, and it will do her good. Now, Mercy, you 
must go.” 

She did not add that old Mrs. Truefitt among the 
items of gossip that seemed always to fill her reticule 
had mentioned that she had been told by somebody 
who knew, that Captain Donnycourt had said that 
he would be back in Providence some time in May. 

Mercy unwillingly yielded, and Dorothy breathed 
freely when she was fairly off. It was, however, a 
great mistake that Dorothy had not taken Mistress 
Sophy into her confidence. Her plotting ran little 


<S8 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


chance of succeeding against the quick wit of that 
busy little matron. 

Shortly after Mercy’s departure a messenger arrived 
with a billet for Mistress Sophy. Penelope was in 
that trying state for both invalid and nurses, not ill 
enough to cause much anxiety but enough to interfere 
with regular occupation and to require a good deal of 
Avalking and a large amount of amusing. This billet 
from her cousin formed a pleasing break in the 
monotony of Sophy’s life. It was merely an intima- 
tion that Arthur would be in Providence the follow- 
ing day, and a request that he might present his 
respects in person to the ladies at the Fythe Farm. 

Mistress Sophy did not greatly care to see him her- 
self, and she had a shrewd idea that it was her pretty 
sister-in-law whom he desired to see. Arthur had 
been devoted to so many fair ladies that Sophy had 
little concern for his heart, but she could not resist a 
little spirit of mischievous interest in a love affair, and 
while Dorothy was with Penelope, she mended her 
pen and indited a few lines informing her cousin of 
the fact that there was fever in the house and advisioor 

o 

him not to venture near them at present. She added 
in the inevitable postscriptum, that Peuben was stay- 
ing with a neighbor and that Mistress Mercy was on 
a visit to the Thurstons in Newport to avoid the 
danger of contagion. Having sealed this missive and 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


89 


delivered it to the messenger who brought the cap- 
tain’s note, she went iip-stairs again and showed the 
note to Dorothy. 

^^What shall we do?” asked Dorothy with a 
pucker in her usually placid brow. 

Oh, give yourself no uneasiness,” replied Sophy 
carelessly. I sent him back a billet that will settle 
the matter. He has no desire to supplement his scar- 
let coat with a scarlet rash on his handsome face. I’ll 
be bound.” 

Sophy was right, for Dorothy neither saw nor 
heard anything more of the gay young officer. 
Penelope’s illness did not prove to be a severe one, 
and Dorothy felt that matters were going on well. 

Since this dear child has been none the worse, it 
is in truth a good thing that this illness came to send 
Mercy away to Newport,” she remarked. 

Yes,” replied Sophy. She would not have 
gone, if she could have had her own way ; but she 
needed the change, for she was growing listless and 
pale.” 

The effect of the spring weather,” replied 
Dorothy quickly. Yes, the change will do her 
good.” 

Sophy had her own opinion about the cause of 
Mercy’s pale and listless looks ; but she had no inten- 
tion of making it a matter of discussion, so she held 


90 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


her peace and by silence gave consent to Mistress 
Dorothy’s theory of spring lassitude. 

AYhen Jonathan arrived on the Saturday morning 
he found at home that the subject upon which he had 
been so anxiously debating within himself was still 
more closely forced upon him. On the preceding 
Monday the great event of the laying of the corner- 
stone of the new College building had taken place, 
and people from far and near had crowded to the 
festivities. 

Truly, I marvel that Nathanael did not strive to 
despatch his business so that he might have been here 
on the fourteenth,” said Dorothy almost indignantly, 
^^and you too have missed a sight that will not be 
seen again in our lifetime.” 

Jonathan tried to explain that his business had 
required and absorbed all his attention, but he made 
but a poor excuse, and every one was too eager to re- 
count the events of the day to a new-comer who had 
not been present, to give much heed to what he said. 

lovelier view I have never seen than that from 
the crest of the hill where they have digged the 
foundation,” said Sophy. 

^^Aye,” replied Dorothy; ^^’tis a beautiful site and 
well fitted for its purpose, both from the memories of 
the past and its own beauty, for it was the home lot 
you know of Elder Chad Brown. Mr. Moses Brown 


IX COLONIAL DAYS. 


91 


lias worked most zealously in this enterprise, despite 
his feeble health ; and Mr. John Brown would not 
stop at the laying of the corner-stone, he would build 
the walls with his own hands, ere he would see the 
work fail!’’ 

‘‘There was grand feasting,” said Eeuben, “and 
some one treated the people with punch. Even in 
old England you would not do better than that. Aunt 
Sophy.” 

“I do not think that deserves much praise,” re- 
marked Dorothy. “ Elder Thurston of Newport 
took a braver step when he refused to make rum 
casks, though he had but his coopering trade to 
support himself withal, and the casks were the best 
pay.” 

“Why did he do that?” asked Sophy with lively 
curiosity. 

“Because he knew that the immense sale of rum 
from the Indies makes beasts of men, and he would 
do naught to further it,” said Dorothy. 

This was a degree of independent criticism that 
was quite beyond Sophy. She had looked with con- 
temptuous scorn upon Rupert who was seldom in a 
condition to appear in the drawing-room after dinner, 
and she was glad that Nathanael had a stronger head 
and also valued his mental powers too highly will- 
ingly to befog them, but it never occurred to her to 


92 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


question the established habit that proved too much 
for Kupert’s weak system. It was the first law of 
hospitality in her English home, to furnish abund- 
ance of wines and strong waters; and any failure 
in this respect would have shocked her sense of pro- 
priety as greatly as if Nathanael had appeared in the 
pulpit without a wig, or Rupert had come to the din- 
ner-table with his own hair unpowdered and the rib- 
bon lost from his queue. She had never remarked 
on the limited use of such beverages at the Fythe 
Farm, as she was uncertain whether it was poverty, 
or some point of honor, as puzzling to her as the tea- 
question, that influenced her sister-in-law. 

Now she simply held her peace and pondered over 
Dorothy’s words and the subject dropped, for Jona- 
than rose to go, and Reuben, eager for more news 
about his journey to New York, took his hat to 
accompany him. 

Jonathan however proved rather uncommunicative 
and they soon lapsed into a silence which Reuben at 
length broke with the fretful exclamation : 

suppose all this learning and this new College is 
a fine thing, but I think it would be finer to act than 
to study just now. Uncle Rodman said it was a time 
for deeds, not for words, when he told us about the 
Boston massacre; and I am sure when the Baptists 
are so ill-used and imposed upon in all the other gov- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


93 


ernments, I would rather do some fighting for them 
than just sit down and study 

You will fight none the worse for understanding 
thoroughly what you are going to fight about/^ re- 
marked Jonathan. 

mean to do that/’ replied the boy. know 
that President Manning says that young men will be 
better fitted for any life, be it by sea or by land, the 
pulpit or the compting house, but I know well that 
mother wants me to be a minister, and that is why she 
is so anxious for me to study. She has set her heart 
more than ever upon it since it is settled that the Col- 
lege is to be built here in our town. I wish she 
would let me be a soldier.” 

Jonathan did not reply for a moment. He had too 
much sense to attempt to argue with the restless spirit 
of adventure tliat was stirring the boyish blood in 
Reuben’s veins ; but he privately wondered if some 
of this restlessness were not the result of Captain 
Donnycourt’s society. At last he said : 

It seems to me that we all get our share of fight- 
ing to do. I’ve had some pretty hard battles lately.” 

^^Oh, yes, I know what you mean,” answered 
Reuben, but I mean real fighting and — adventures. 
Now you know, Jonathan, you would not like to be a 
minister yourself.” 

mean to be as soon as ever I can,” replied Jona- 


94 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


than quietly but decidedly. Then as Reuben looked 
at him, too much surprised to speak at once, he added 
hastily : Here we are at Goody Drew’s gate. I have 
not seen her since I came back. I must go in this 
morning. Good-bye.” 

He was afraid to listen to Reuben’s answer to his 
announcement. It was only a short sentence to a 
thoughtless boy, and Reuben could not appreciate 
what the words meant to him ; but it was a turning 
point in Jonathan’s life. He had, as he said, fought 
a hard battle, and these words proclaimed which side 
had conquered. Even though it was only Reuben 
who heard him, the knowledge that he had announced 
his decision was a positive closing of the much de- 
bated question, and he walked homeward with clearer 
brain and firmer step. 

He was sure that Reuben would repeat what he 
had said, but he also took an early opportunity to go 
again to the Fythe House and to tell Dorothy of his 
decision. Mercy’s absence had been at first a disap- 
pointment to him, for he had secretly looked forward 
to reading approbation in her fair face if he could 
bring himself to decide as he knew that he ought. 
But now he felt that it was better that his decision 
should be a settled and well known fact before he met 
her again. And the honest and manly endeavor to do 
right for the sake of a higher than any earthly love 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


95 


was not without its effect on the young man’s spirit 
and bearing. 

The following week Mercy returned from her trip 
to Newport. She certainly looked much better than 
she had done before she went, but Dorothy’s eyes 
noted a change. There was something wrong with 
Mercy, though it was such an impalpable something 
that she could not even find anything to question 
about. 

Dr. Manning was already settled in Providence, 
and had begun teaching in the Brick school-house on 
Meeting Street. The students gathered for prayers 
and recitations, and boarded at different houses in the 
town while waiting for the completion of the College 
building. Jonathan Pursell had therefore decided to 
begin a few studies at once, and to try to have his 
business finally disposed of in time to take a regu- 
lar course as soon as the new building was opened. 
Mercy received the news of his decision with very 
evident pleasure; and the first evening that he came 
to the Fythe Farm after her return she greeted him 
so cordially and frankly that Dorothy Avas amazed. 
Even Nathanael, wdio returned the same week, 
thought : 

^^Here is another instance of Cupid’s blindness. 
As soon as Pursell gives up the pursuit, Mercy is 
becoming interested in him. Though, in truth, it is 


96 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


not surprising; for he is in every way greatly im-' 
proved.’^ 

Only two people divined the truth. Extremes 
meet; and in this case, Mistress Sophy the most 
quick-witted and the most worldly wise of the party, 
and Jonathan, the slowest and the most simple- 
minded, arrived at the same conclusion. 

^^She would not be so frank and pleasant with 
him if she really cared for him,’’ thought Sophy. 

She is kind to everybody, and she don’t dislike 
me now that she feels sure that I am not trying to 
court her,” thought Jonathan to himself. 

On a peaceful evening in June, only a few days 
after Nathanael’s return, the family were gathered in 
the house place. The hum of Dorothy’s spinning- 
wheel drowned the voice of the bees that were droning 
past the open doors and windows, winging their way 
homeward from the clover field. Sophy’s knitting- 
needles clicked as she plied Nathanael with questions 
about his visit to New York. 

Ask Mercy about Newport ; she has seen a bigger 
and more bustling town than I,” said Nathanael at 
last good-humoredly, checking the flow of queries. 

Mercy, who, for a wonder, was sitting by the win- 
dow with loosely clasped hands lying idly in her lap, 
started and answered hurriedly, as she turned her 
gaze from the yellow light in the evening sky: 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


97 


“Yes, it is a bustling place. When I saw the 
crowded wharves and the ships going and coming and 
all the business going on, it seemed strange to me 
that our town should have carried the day about the 
College.’’ 

“ I think it is fortunate for the College. This is 
the best place for it,” answered Nathanael. “All the 
bustle, and business, and money-getting does not help 
a man to study, and that peaceful hill-top with its 
lovely view, is just the place for the Muses.” 

A shadow darkened the door-way as he spoke, and 
looking up he started to his feet with an exclamation 
of welcome, while Dorothy hastily pushed back her 
wheel and came forward with eager greeting. 

“ Mr. Smith, it is a glad sight to see you again on 
our door-step. Come in and tell us how you have 
prospered.” 

“Before I relate my experiences, may I ask to be 
presented to Mrs. Rodman,” replied Mr. Smith as he 
entered the room and glanced at the little matron. 

The introduction given, they again settled to quiet 
conversation, but Sophy’s bright eyes were carefully 
noting from under their dark lashes the bearing, the 
features and the general deportment of the young 
man, and her husband’s evident interest in his con- 
versation. 

“Truly you have worked hard for the founding of 
G 


98 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


the College/’ said Nathanael as he listened to Mr. 
Smith’s account of his travels in the Southern gov- 
ernments. ‘‘I was saying even as you entered that 
its situation was well chosen.” 

The best advantage that it has is, to my mind,” 
said Mr. Smith, *^1110 free Colony in which it has 
struck root. Here there are no oppressive taxations, 
no imprisonments to fetter and warp men’s con- 
science. I would that the Colony of Massachusetts 
had the free and noble government of Rliode Island 
and Providence Plantations.” 

I have heard that this government protects the 
Baptists,” replied Nathanael, ^‘and no doubt they 
flourish here in consequence.” 

‘‘Nay,” said Mr. Smith, “we ask no protection, 
unless you call it protection to give us free light and 
air. When men liave been cooped up in dim cham- 
bers, heavy with the mould and dust collected on 
folios of creeds and dogmas, and sparsely lighted with 
smoky torches of other men’s teaching, what they pine 
for is the freedom of God’s beautiful earth. They 
long to see the flowers and the trees as he makes them 
grow, to breathe the pure air and to read his word 
by the light of the sun.” 

“Surely when you have just been engaged in col- 
lecting funds for this new College, you do not mean 
to say that you despise the learning of men,” said 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


99 


Nathanael with a slight approach to sarcasm in his 
tone. 

No indeed/’ replied Mr. Smith gravely. I 
would that we should use every help that we can 
find in the study of God’s word, but we must remem- 
ber that they are but helps. If I cannot honestly say 
that I accept another man’s interpretation of the 
Scriptures, I would desire to have free liberty for us 
to differ, and to question, until we solve our doubts.” 

‘^And if the other man by solving his doubts be- 
comes a Methodist, or a Quaker, or mayhap even 
remains in the Church of England?” asked Nathanael, 
still with the same tone. 

^^Then let him follow his conscience,” said Mr. 
Smith. “He were far better thus, than to become a 
Baptist because the State laws forced him to be such 
while his belief was not with them.” 

“There is something in that,” replied Nathanael 
musingly. 

The discontent fostered by his early training and 
surroundings in England led him to regard all enthu- 
siasm with a touch of cynical contempt, but there was 
something in Mr. Smith’s earnestness that was new to 
Nathanael. It was not crack-brained fanaticism, nor 
on the other hand, was he repeating a lot of truths 
that his conduct showed to have been learned by 
heart, but not with the heart. 


CHAPTER yill. 


A SERMON BY REV. HEZEKIAH SMITH. 

R. SMITH was spending two days with his old 



friend Mr. Nicholas Brown before he returned 
to his church at Haverhill; and he had promised to 
preach on Tuesday evening in Mr. Winsor’s meeting- 
house. Great was Sophy’s surprise when her hus- 
band came to her on Tuesday afternoon with the 
remark : 

If you are minded to hear Mr. Smith preach this 
evening. I will put the pillion on Black Bess.” 

Merry Mistress Sophy had no great mind to hear 
anybody preach, unless it were Nathanael himself. 
And, even in those days when he appeared in the 
pulpit, her attention was so much given to a keen 
criticism of the behavior of the village children and 
a careful scrutiny of the clear-starching of Nathanael’s 
bands, that all his sermons were equally good to her 
taste, and by the time she reached home she remem- 
bered nothing but the final invocation. But any pro- 
posal of Nathanael’s was sure to meet with a cheerful 
assent from her, and the prospe'ct of the ride to town 
and back again with him was really a powerful in- 
ducement. 


100 


c 


IN C!OLONIAL DAYS. 


101 


The little Meeting House stood on Main Street 
and so near the water that in the spring and fall the 
high tides flowed nearly up to the west end. There 
were no pews, but benches were ranged on the sides 
of the aisle that extended from the front door to the 
pulpit. The pulpit was raised a few steps above 
the floor, and there was a gallery, but it was not used 
for orchestra or choir. Elder Winsor disapproved 
very strongly of singing at public worship. Although 
the house was small, it was not crowded, and Sophy 
and her husband easily found seats. 

At first Sophy’s glance wandered over the bare little 
Meeting House, and her observant eyes noted the 
freckles on the nose of the wmman who sat beside her, 
and the funny little black wig that seemed in immi- 
nent danger of hopping ofP the rather large head of a 
man on the opposite bench. The preacher had an- 
nounced his text and begun his sermon while Sophy’s 
wits were still wandering; but her glance happening 
to fall on the earnest, absorbed countenance of Jona- 
than Pursell, she fell to speculating on the wonderful 
improvement that had taken place in him. Then 
seeing that her husband also was listening attentively, 
sheer curiosity induced her to pay some heed to the 
sermon. The text was from Revelation i. 7, “ Behold 
he cometh with clouds.” In a short time the volatile 
Sophy was listening with a strange feeling of awe. 


102 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


that she could hardly understand. It made her un- 
comfortable, and she longed to shake it off. But her 
gay spirits did not rise to her rescue, as they usually 
did when anything uncomfortable was forced upon 
her mind. 

Even when the preacher’s voice ceased, when the 
little Meeting House was emptied and she was once 
more seated on the pillion behind her husband, she 
could not feel ^Hike lierself again,” as she phrased it. 
The croak of the frogs in the pond as they passed ; 
the stars glowing through the cool darkness of the 
June night ; the dewy fragrance of roses and honey- 
suckles ; the smooth exhilarating canter of Black 
Bess ; all the trifles to which she was usually so keenly 
alive, — passed unheeded, so preoccupied was her mind 
by the earnest words of the preacher. 

^^What are you thinking of, Sophy? Your tongue 
is not often so long idle. If it is Elder Smith who 
has sent you into such a reverie, at least speak out 
your judgment,” said Nathanael at last. 

‘^What thinks my lord and master?” replied 
Sophy, with an attempt at her usual sprightliness. 

“In truth, I hardly know,” replied Nathanael 
musingly. “ These Baptists are terribly in earnest.” 

Then they both relapsed into silence again. The 
familiar road, the dimly roused associations were all 
awakening in Nathanael boyish impressions and mem- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


103 


ories, that he had thought completely buried, if indeed 
he ever thought of them at all. And with it all he 
seemed to be regaining some of the eager readiness of 
a boy to receive impressions. He could not coolly and 
impassively criticise the evening’s sermon as a piece of 
rhetoric, ora skillful composition. His mind reverted 
to the words every eye shall see him and they also 
which pierced him.” He no longer noted approvingly 
the fine presence of the preacher, his eloquent voice, 
his rich command of language. In spite of himself, 
his mind had been wholly turned to the matter of the 
discourse, and his thoughts were directed irresistibly 
to him who ^^cometh with clouds.” 

The next day Mr. Smith left Providence, but the 
impression that his words had produced was not 
destined to be lightly effaced. 

Mr. Manning, Mr. Smith’s friend and classmate, 
was now settled in Providence. Mr. Winsor had re- 
cently settled in the country and found it difficult to 
continue his duties as pastor and Mr. Manning had 
several times preached for them. 

I wish Mr. Manning would take Elder Winsor’s 
place,” said Reuben ; ^^he does not think it a sin to 
sing. I would much rather listen to Aunt Sophy 
and Aunt Mercy singing, than to a long sermon.” 

^^Take heed, lad,” said his mother severely. “Such 
words ill become you. The salvation of the soul is 


104 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


of more account, than the tickling of our ears with 
pleasing melodies.’^ 

Dorothy did not often speak so sharply, but Keuben 
had of late shown a questioning and fractious spirit . 
that made her uneasy. His grandfather had very 
little comprehension of music; and as one tune was 
exactly like another to him, the whole vexed question 
of singing or no singing at divine worship excited 
about as much interest in his mind, as if you were to 
ask a blind man whether a house should be painted 
green or yellow. Mercy had inherited from her 
mother a sweet, though not powerful voice; and 
Dorothy, though she could not sing a note, felt a 
degree of pleasure in hearing ^^the child trilling a 
gay little song over her work. But it was strictly a 
secular pleasure and nobody had thought of raising 
it of out of the place of a week day amusement until 
Sophy’s arrival. She had a rich contralto and she 
often sang to Penelope. In deference to the feel- 
ings of her new relations she always chose hymns 
and Psalms for the Sunday. Mercy w^as once or twice 
induced to take the first,” and when Nathanael and 
Keuben showed interest in listening to them, Dorothy, 
though slightly bewildered and doubtful, did not like 
openly to oppose it. But now the matter was as- 
suming greater importance, and she felt called upon 
to express her opinion decidedly. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


105 


Elder Winsor lives too far off, and he thinks that 
his time is too much occupied,’^ said Jonathan Pursell, 
who had dropped in as he often did. ‘^And as he 
wishes to withdraw, I do not see that we could do bet- 
ter than to sit under the ministry of Elder Manning, 
if he is minded to accept a call from the church.^' 

I do not deny that Elder Manning has the gift 
of speech to a wonderful degree and the grace of God 
is with him,’’ replied Dorothy, but he holds loosely 
by certain points. There be those who say, that he 
practices the laying on of hands more to gratify the 
consciences of others, than to satisfy his own ; and 
his views of singing at worship are not such as my 
father would have held with.” 

^^But if the laying on of hands is not essential to 
salvation, and it cannot be, since the command is ‘ be- 
lieve and be baptized,’ that need not be regarded as a 
matter of great importance,” urged Jonathan. And 
we are told that David sang before the Lord. He is 
called you know the sweet singer of Israel. Surely 
we cannot be far wrong in making use of the gifts the 
Lord has given for his praise.” He glanced as he 
spoke at Mercy, whose color had deepened nervously. 

“Jonathan, beware; such light-minded argument is 
not fitting for one who is studying for the work of the 
ministry,” said Dorothy. “Would you say that be- 
cause David danced before the Lord, we should dance 


106 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


up the aisle of the Meeting House, rather than go 
decorously and decently to our places. We are not 
living under the Mosaic Dispensation, and at this time 
when, as Mr. Brown said only last week, we can see 
nothing clearly in the future except the threatening 
clouds, sure it is meet for us to come before the Lord 
with fear and trembling, and to offer our prayer with 
humble and contrite hearts. You will tell us next 
that we should sing-song in Latin, like the Papists.’^ 

She was growing heated and Jonathan forebore to 
continue the discussion, which could do little good, 
and might do harm, since Reuben and Penelope were 
sitting by, doubtless eagerly watching who would 
come off victor, although their training forbade them 
to interfere when their elders were talking. 

The question was, however, to be widely and hotly 
discussed before a larger audience ; and many church 
meetings were held on the matter before a final de- 
cision was reached. Ten months later, in April of the 
following year, Mr. Winsor and a number of the 
members announced by writing their intention of 
withdrawing from the church, alleging as their reason 
that the members did not hold strictly to the six 
principles of the doctrine of Christ laid down in 
Hebrews vi. 1, 2.’^ In the following month Mr. 
Winsor joined the Separates ; but when all this 
was going on Dorothy was not present to give her 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


107 


voice on one side, or the other. For at that time the 
old Fythe Farm held only two inmates, Mercy, who 
-shrank from any such discussions, and Reuben, who 
was hot and eager enough for debate, but, being not 
a church member and too young to give any opinion 
of weight, was not called upon to express his views. 

Nathanael had never intended to take up his abode 
with his sisters and in all his recent travels he ever 
held in mind his intention to settle and make a home 
for his family with his own industry. Through Mr. 
Smith he had heard of a farm near Chelmsford not 
more than twenty-five miles from Haverhill, and fur- 
ther inquiries and a trip to Haverhill, whence he 
made a visit of inspection accompanied by Mr. Smith, 
led him to decide to purchase the laud. 

Dorothy at first opposed the change, but finding 
that Nathanael had fully made up his mind, she 
wisely gave up all opposition, and offered to go with 
them to help Sophy to settle in her new home. The 
offer w'as gladly accepted, and thus when Elder Win- 
sor severed his connection with the Baptist Church in 
Main Street, Dorothy was in Massachusetts busily 
engaged in arranging furniture, looking after the 
cows and the butter making, and enlightening Sophy 
concerning many of the ingenious make-shifts and 
contrivances that must be practiced by those who 
begin life in a new country and with limited means. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE FIRST KNOT IN A TANGLED SKEIN. 

rriHE time was well chosen for beginning their 
new home. The bright June sunshine, the 
green fields, the scenery so wild and new to eyes 
accustomed to the trim neatness of Southern England, 
all enchanted Sophy. Even the primitive little 
house that Nathanael looked upon with misgivings 
found favor in her eyes. She was well used to 
exercise her skill in dainty cookery in her old home 
and in the rectory kitchen at Rodmanhurst, and little 
Penelope asked nothing better than to be enveloped 
in a big holland pinafore with a little mob cap on 
her curly pate and armed with a duster and brush to 
chase ruthlessly every speck of dust that marred the 
simple furniture, or the painted floor and hearth-stone. 

In the beginning of June they reluctantly said 
good-bye ’’ to Dorothy, who was to go as far as 
Boston with Mr. Smith and thence, after a short rest, 
to travel homeward with friends. 

Mr. Smith was at that time making frequent visits 
to Boxford, where resided the lady who was shortly 
to become his wife ; and both Dorothy and Mistress 
108 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


109 


Sophy had been not a little excited over the prospect 
of the arrival of the bride. But even this event 
could not induce Dorothy to postpone her return 
home, as it already seemed to her that she had left 
her ^Hwo children, as the mischievous Sophy called 
Mercy and Reuben, long enough to their own devices. 

One bright morning about two weeks after her 
departure, Nathanael had gone out to the orchard and 
Sophy was standing at the kitchen table with her 
sleeves tucked up above her dimpled elbows, while 
little Penelope by her side was handing in turn the 
various ingredients for the pudding that was in process 
of concoction, with an expression of grave importance 
on her childish features, which showed her apprecia- 
tion of the responsibilities of her duties. 

A clatter of hoofs made Sophy glance towards the 
window. 

Who is that, Penelope, surely it is some one com- 
ing up our lane ? she asked. 

^Mt may be Mr. Hezekiah Smith, who has ridden 
over to talk with father,^^ replied the little damsel, 
looking towards the window with .a pleased smile; 
for she was a pet with Mr. Smith, and always hailed 
his coming with delight, expressed in her own quiet 
way. 

‘‘Nonsense, child. Mr. Smith is riding in another 
direction to his wedding ; ftis more like to be Good- 


110 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


man Tuft come to see the cow that thy father would 
exchange. Run to the front door while I finish the 
pudding, and tell him that father is in the orchard. 
But first ask him to be seated. Though, in truth,’’ 
she added to herself, as Penelope disappeared to obey 
her injunctions, would rather postpone any gossip, 
be it ever so interesting until I had beat up a cake 
for Nathanael’s supper this evening.” 

‘^And I should be loath to be held responsible for 
the spoiling of such a dainty, so perhaps I had better 
remain outside,” said a voice behind her and turning 
with a start, she saw the face of Arthur Donnycourt 
peeping through the open window at her elbow. 

You foolish boy, what a fright you gave me,” she 
exclaimed ; come in. Where have you been ? What 
are you doing there ? ” 

Arthur taking the invitation literally, at once pro- 
ceeded to make his entrance by the open window and 
in so doing, as the window was not very large and 
his height was such as befitted his Majesty’s service, 
he knocked his head, scraped his shoulders, and nearly 
knocked over the sugar-box that Penelope had set 
down on the corner of the table. 

In spite of all these mishaps his eyes sparkled, and 
his cheeks glowed with gay excitement, that made 
Sophy wonder what had been his morning refresh- 
ments. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Ill 


Congratulate me, sweet cousin. I have won,’’ he 
exclaimed eagerly, though his voice was not raised 
sufficiently for any one in the next room to hear. 

‘‘What do you mean, Arthur?” asked Sophy, a 
little sharply. “You come philandering in at the 
window, knocking over the table, and talking riddles, 
as though you had tasted something stronger than 
beer or cider at your breakfast.” 

“ Nay, cousin mine,” he answered with a merry 
glance that reminded her of the mischievous, bright- 
faced boy, who used to be her playmate ; “ it is but 
Dame Fortune who has extended to me an intoxicating 
cup of good luck. Strong waters and all the follies 
and pranks of my youth I have now renounced for 
the sake of my gracious mistress.” 

“How! What does this mean? For pity’s sake 
explain, Arthur,” cried Sophy, in excited curiosity. 

A sudden change in Arthur’s face and a motion of 
his finger to his lips stopped her just as Penelope’s 
voice at the inner door said : 

“ There is a horse tied to the fence, but I see 
no ” 

She stopped and gazed with astonishment at Arthur. 

“Have you mislaid your manners, child?” said her 
mother. “Greet your cousin, and then run to the 
hen-roost, and see if you can find me a half dozen of 
new-laid eggs.” 


112 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Now/’ she added impatientlj, as Penelope, having 
dropped her courtesy and spoke her greeting, again 
disappeared, “ I am dying to hear your news.” 

It is but this, cousin, that I have made good use 
of the hint you sent me and this lucky move of yours 
has given me another chance to press my suit with 
gentle Mistress Mercy ; and now, at last, I have her 
promise that she will make me the happiest of men.” 

There was a gleam of real earnest feeling through 
all his gay levity that Sophy noted with a little 
frightened foreboding that she had been setting in 
motion a force that would not obey her control. 

What do you mean by ^ the hint ’ and the ^ lucky 
move?’” she asked, anxiously. Mercy said naught 
of you in her letters. Have you been in Provi- 
dence?” 

^^Aye, truly have I,” he replied. 

^^And Mercy has betrothed herself to you without 
consulting Dorothy, and without writing to me?” 
she asked in a scandalized tone. 

Nay, she has written to you and I am the bearer 
of the letter,” replied Arthur. But, for Mistress 
Dorothy, what would you have ? She considers me 
the arch fiend ; and has spoken so hotly against me, 
that I had much ado to make any headway against 
her warnings ; and in the end I only gained Mercy’s 
promise by the assurance that I would do all in my 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


113 


power to refute any of the wild stories that may be 
circulated against me, and by my circumspect be- 
havior to win even Mistress Seaton’s approval.” 

But what do you mean to do ? Are you going 
to take Mercy to England ? ” asked Sophy. 

^^Ah, there is where I need your counsel and your 
assistance, fair cousin,” replied Arthur. must 

first write to my father and get what I can from 
him. And as it will not do to speak abruptly of a 
new daughter, it is a delicate matter.” 

‘^Yes, it is,” assented Soph3^ '^But I do not see 
how I can help you.” 

For the first time she began to think seriously of 
the future before Arthur and Mercy. She knew very 
Avell that old Mr. Donuycourt would neither approve 
of a New England daughter-in-law, nor give any 
assistance to settling Arthur in a home under such 
circumstances. 

‘^No, no, I can manage that part of the business 
myself,” replied Arthur. But I want you to help 
in managing the other side.” 

^^Oh, do you want me to write to Dorothy? 
What a pity that I did not know sooner. It is 
much easier to speak than to write; and I could have 
won her over while she was with us,” said Sophy. 

“That is not so easy as you think,” replied Arthur. 

“I never knew you so slow of comprehension, Sophy. 

H 


114 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Don’t you see that we must say nothing about the 
matter. If Mistress Dorothy, or your husband got 
wind of it, the next thing would be to ask about the 
settlements and the home I could supply; and I 
would be left with my finger in my mouth.” 

‘^Then you want to keep it secret?” said Sophy, in- 
quiringly. “Mercy will never do that.” 

“Yes, she will,” replied Captain Donnycourt, tri- 
umphantly. “She has promised. I told her that it 
would be only until I received an answer from 
England.” 

“ But what if your father gives you no encourage- 
ment and promises nothing,” asked Sophy. 

She was becoming more and more anxious and 
sorry that she had set this stone rolling. Arthur, 
however, was all eagerness and impatience. Indeed 
Sophy was oddly and strongly reminded of the old 
days, when he was getting into scrapes, from which 
she first tried to dissuade him, and then followed him, 
with misgivings it is true, but also with a keen enjoy- 
ment of the fun. Now, however, in her position as a 
matron, she felt that she could admonish with au- 
thority, and she meant to act very prudently and 
wisely. 

“You ought to be frank and open,” she said 
gravely. “I shall certainly not aid you in leading 
Mercy into aby entanglement of this sort.” 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


115 


^^You never used to be one to throw cold water 
on good resolutions/’ retorted Arthur. ‘^You have 
talked to me often about settling down and being 
steady, and now you would spoil my one chance.” 

He looked very disconsolate, and Sophy relented a 
little. 

^‘What do you want me to do?” she asked doubt- 
fully. 

“Why just this,” replied the young man, again 
brightening into eager speech. “ Persuade Mercy to 
come here to visit you. Then I can sometimes see 
her without causing gossip to reach Mistress Dorothy’s 
ears ; and you can help us to make plans, as soon as 
the answer comes from my father.” 

“ Do you suppose that I will help on a clandestine 
courtship?” exclaimed Sophy indignantly. “ No, sir; 
if Mercy comes here, you must stay away.” 

Captain Donnycourt appeared to be about to expos- 
tulate, but he checked himself, and after a moment’s 
thought, replied : 

“ That will be a cruel sentence, but I am more 
anxious for Mercy’s comfort than for my own ; and 
you can judge how distasteful it must be for her to 
meet constantly that fellow Pursell, while her sister 
favors his suit and is ever ready to speak ill of me. 
She would be much happier with you, and you could 
give her good counsel.” 


116 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


This little bit of flattery was not without effect. 
Sophy did not believe that Dorothy would play any 
such stern role, as Arthur seemed ready to assign to 
her. Still it was true that neither she nor Nathanael 
liked Donnycourt, and the romance of the whole situ- 
ation began to influence Sophy now that she found 
herself brought in to act the part of wise adviser. 

I do not think that Mercy will come,^^ she said ; 
^^at least not just now.’’ 

But you will ask her ? ” interrupted Donnycourt 
eagerly. 

Yes,” she admitted reluctantly; ^^but of course it 
is with the understanding that you are to stay away.” 

^^Oh, yes, and ... Is not that your husband?” 
he interpolated, as his glance, which, for some time, 
had been vigilantly directed towards the window, fell 
on a tall figure .coming from the direction of the 
orchard. “ Of conrse, I need not ask you to promise 
to say nothing to any one about what I have told you. 
You were always a discreet little woman and worthy 
of confidence,” he added hastily. 

Certainly, I will not betray your confidence,” 
replied Sophy, with a readiness that did not speak 
well for her discretion. The moment before she had 
fully intended to retain the right to keep this secret 
or not as she might judge best, but the eager, hasty 
.^ords and Nathanael’s approach flurried her. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


117 


Captain Donnycourt had already stepped out to 
meet Nathanael, and when he returned, this time en- 
tering decorously by the kitchen door and conversiug 
with her husband in perfectly cool and composed tones 
about the news of the day, Sophy’s chance for retract- 
ing or modifying her words was fled. 

‘‘It is a pretty piece of laud ; and certainly Mr. 
Hezekiah Smith did me a kindly turn in recommend- 
ing it to my notice,” Nathanael was saying. 

“Aye,” replied Don ny court, “and you no doubt 
take heed not to become too much mixed up with 
these Antipedobaptists, or whatever the sextopedalian 
name may be, that they now use instead of plain 
Anabaptist.” 

“That is singular advice, methinks, when my hus- 
band’s relations in this country are all Baptists,” 
Sophy could not refrain from saying with a meaning 
glance. 

“ Ah, true, I remember to have heard that,” said 
Donnycourt with imperturbable coolness ; “ but they 
are living under the Rhode Island Government, are 
they not ? And that charter I have heard is so framed 
that there is little chance of the troubles of the 
Ash field people befalling any religious sect in Rhode 
Island.” 

“ The Rhode Island Government is in that respect 
a model for every other government,” replied Na- 


118 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


thanael quietly. There would be a great hue and 
cry at home if we of the Church of England were 
taxed to support the Baptist preachers. Yet in truth 
such men as Dr. Manning or Elder Smith or Elder 
Gano are better worth supporting than many a parish 
priest who uses the Prayer Book.’^ 

‘^Nathanael cried Sophy, stopping in the very 
act of putting her cake in the oven — while she cast a 
warning glance towards Penelope. 

‘^Bun out and gather posies, Pen. You will lose 
your color if you stay in-doors in this bright 
weather,” said her father. Then as the child went 
obediently out of the kitchen, he added : There is 
no cause to look so horrified, Sophy. I do not mean 
to speak ill of our church, in which there are plenty 
of good and wise men. I only mean that people 
should not be taxed by the civil government to sup- 
port any church.” 

You would strike at the foundations of society, 
Mr. Bodman,” said Captain Donnycourt carelessly. 
He cared little about the matter under discussion. 
His main object was to keep the ball of conversation 
going, until he could decently take leave, and also to 
avoid any subject that might lead Sophy by word or 
look to arouse h^r husband’s suspicion concerning their 
previous tite-d-Ute. 

Nay, I think the foundations of society were more 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


119 


seriously disturbed when those quiet Baptist people in 
Aslifield had their lauds taken from them a year ago 
last April, to be sold for taxes to support a Cougre- 
gatioualist minister. That might doubtless be styled 
oppression,^’ said Nathanael; ^^aud indeed it was 
downright cheating when the lands, valued at three 
hundred and sixty-three pounds lawful money, were 
sold for nineteen pounds three shillings.” 

^^Ah, well, I have heard that they are moving 
heaven and earth to obtain redress,” said Donnycourt; 
^‘and, doubtless, it will all be settled satisfactorily. 
It is rather odd, to say the least of it, that these good 
people of the colonies, who make such a sturdy re- 
sistance to any taxes laid on them by England, should 
be themselves taxing their Aveaker brethren.” 

^^Aye, truly spoken,” said Nathanael, thoughtfully. 

It is taxation without representation that they 
complain of ; and to tax one set of men to support the 
preachers for another set amounts to the same thing.” 

I never heard so much about taxes in my whole 
life, as I have heard since we landed in this country,” 
interrupted Sophy pettishly,, forestalling the reply that 
Arthur Avas about to make. 

^^True,” replied Nathanael good-humoredly; ^^the 

turn that our conversation has taken savors a trifle too 

f . 

much of law courts and political meetings to please 
the ears of ladies. You Avill stay to dine A\dth us, 


120 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Captain Donnycourt, and we will strive to be more 
entertaining company. You said, did you not, that 
you are just from Boston? What are the gayeties 
that you can tell us of to enliven our seclusion ? 

^^1 have been so short a time in the town that I 
have little news to tell, except this same political talk 
that one picks up at every tavern where a man may 
rest half an hour to refresh himself and bait his 
horse,’^ replied Donnycourt; ^^but if I do not tres- 
pass on your kindness by accepting this invitation, 
the presence of so fair a hostess will surely inspire my 
dull wits. The society of a gentlewoman is a grate- 
ful relaxation from the tedious monotony of barrack 
life,’^ he added adroitly, as he saw by NathanaeFs 
face that the more pointed compliment was not well 
received. 

Donnycourt’s short visit passed more agreeably than 
the former visits to Bodmanhurst Rectory, Nathanael 
evidently was inclined to act with courtesy, but Sophy 
found slight comfort from that fact. She was too 
quick-witted not to perceive that any real liking be- 
tween the two men was as remote as ever, and in the 
tone of DonnycourFs W'ords concerning the Baptists 
she noted a careless indifference that spoke ill for any 
sympathy on that point between Mercy and himself. 
Poor Mistress Sophy was displeased all around. She 
was disturbed by the serious thoughtfulness with 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


121 


wliioli Nathanael spoke of the Baptists, as if they 
occupied a good deal of his attention ; she resented 
Donnycourt’s cool indilference on a subject in which 
her husband was evidently interested, and in which 
Donnycourt ought to be interested — so she argued — 
if he contemplated taking a bride of that way of 
thinking ; and, worst of all, she had not the under- 
lying support and comfort of feeling well pleased 
with herself. 

She had no chance for private speech with Arthur 
until just as he was taking leave he found a moment 
to say in low, eager tones : 

Then I trust Mercy to you. You have the hap- 
piness of both in your hands, and with no one could 
I feel it to be safer.” 

He bowed low over her hand and was gone before 
Sophy could utter any expostulation. She was not 
even quite sure that she wished to expostulate. When 
Captain Donnycourt laid aside his careless airs, there 
was a frank and confiding boyishness about him that 
made him almost irresistible ; and the look of respect 
and gratitude that had met Sophy’s glance as he 
spoke, touched both her heart and her vanity. Was 
it then any great marvel that her judgment was lulled 
to sleep ? 


CHAPTER X. 


A VISIT TO THE BRIDE AT HAVERHILL. 

OOPHY had never before intentionally kept any 
^ matter of importance a secret from her husband. 
For a few days after Captain Don ny court’s sudden 
visit she felt intensely uncomfortable, and so griev- 
ously annoyed and perplexed, that she dared not make 
any suggestion concerning an invitation to Mercy, lest 
she should betray this hidden uneasiness and lead 
Nathanael to question her. At last she began to feel 
that she must have some one with whom she could 
talk freely, and she plucked up courage to broach the 
subject to her husband. 

“I do not see exactly how we can arrange for 
Mercy to make the journey,” he replied, but it will 
do no harm to write to her or to Dorothy. You have 
been a trifle down in spirits since Dorothy left us, but 
cheer up, sweetheart. You have been a brave little 
housewife in all this work of moving, and we will 
manage to get Mercy to make the place more lively 
for you now.” 

thought it would be a pleasant change for 

Mercy; it was she who seemed to me low^-spirited 
123 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


123 


since her return from Newport last year/’ said Sophy 
vexed that she should have given her husband the 
impression that his society was not enough for her. 

‘^Ah, you thought so?” said Nathanael; too 
fancied something of the sort. Well, well, write your 
billet and I will try to find a trusty hand to take it to 
Boston.” 

He went away thoughtfully, and Sophy was left to 
fret her soul with vain queries, as to whether he could 
have heard or suspected aught concerning Donny- 
court’s meetiag with Mercy in Newport. 

Nathanael’s thoughts, however, ran in a very dif- 
ferent direction. He connected Mercy’s depression 
with Jonathan Pursell’s determination to devote him- 
self to the ministry, and his consequent inability to 
press his suit for her hand. 

Was I right, or was I wrong in the influence I 
tried to exert over his decision ? If he had not come 
to this resolution, she never would have respected him, 
and he never would have respected himself. Yet I 
did not wish to cause her any unhappiness. Truly it 
is a strange world,” he mused ; the more ardently 
we seek to attain happiness either for ourselves or for 
our friends, the more persistently it eludes our grasp. 
Elder Smith would tell me that it is not happiness 
that we should make our object. Then if it be good- 
ness, what is goodness? Have not I borne a good 


124 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


reputation through difficult and exasperating circum- 
stances? No man would speak ill of me. Even 
Eupert, who would gladly pick holes in my coat, could 
find nothing but paltry silly caviliugs. Yet what a 
shame I felt of myself! ^Tis only now, when I have, 
as the Church would say, disgraced my profession, 
that the fire within me burns less fiercely and I begin 
to feel like an honest man. I would that Elder Smith 
were returned from his wedding jaunt that I might 
hold some discourse with him on this subject.’^ 

During the last few mouths there had been frequent 
intercourse between these two, but Nathanael’s ques- 
tions and arguments had always been in the abstract; 
he never made or invited any personal allusions. Mr. 
Smith was acute enough to surmise that many of the 
supposititious cases brought forward by Nathanael 
were really the actual battles and questionings of 
his own inner life, but he was too wise to make any 
attempt to force confidence. 

Mr. Smith’s marriage, which took place late in 
June, and the subsequent visiting among his wife’s re- 
lations and friends, though of course it occupied his 
mind, had not made him forgetful of his new friends. 
When on the eleventh of July he had brought his 
wife home, and the interrupted routine of life had 
been taken up again, he looked forward with much 
interest to the visit of congratulation which he was 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


125 


well assured the Eodmans would not be slow to make, 
even though they lived at a distance and were not 
members of his church and congregation. 

He was not mistaken in his expectations; for 
little more than a week had passed since the newly 
married pair were settled in their home, when 
Nathanael remarked one Saturday morning to his 
wife : 

^^Can you get ready to ride over with me to 
Haverhill to-morrow morning? It is time we paid 
our respects to the bride, and I would that we could 
arrive in time to hear Mr. Smith preach.” 

The proposition did not meet with the usual 
ready and cheerful assent from Sophy. Captain 
Donny court’s talk had alarmed her, and she noticed 
with dread her husband’s evident inclination to attend 
the Baptist meeting. 

What Avill become of Penelope?” she asked. 
‘^We cannot take her along.” 

^‘Nay, truly; thou art getting too big a girl. Pen, 
for Black Bess to carry treble,” replied her father as 
he chucked the sedate little maiden under the chin. 

What shall we do with thee?” 

Mount me on Old Tom, father!” replied Penelope 
promptly, while a gleam of mischief sparkled in her 
demure brown eyes. I will engage to make him 
keep pace with Black Bess.” 


126 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Fie, for shame, Penelope ! ” cried her mother. 

Thou art a veritable little hoyden, riding the horses 
about the fields ; but what will pass in our own lane 
and meadow will never do on the high road.” 

There, there, lass,” said Nathanael good-naturedly, 
as he noted her crestfallen look; ‘^some day I’ll take 
thee on the pillion behind me. But, let me see — she 
might go to Good wife Folinsbee to-morrow,” he 
added as he turned again to his wife. 

Elspeth Folinsbee was the wife of a Scotchman, 
who owned a small tract of land adjacent to Na- 
thanael’s farm, and who was frequently hired by the 
owners of larger farms to bring himself and his team 
to assist in the harvest or at seeding time. 

have no time to see her about the matter,” 
replied Sophy doubtfully. Could we not go on 
Tuesday or Wednesday?” 

^^Nay, with the haying and harvesting at hand, ’tis 
the only day I can give,” said Nathanael decidedly. 

Besides, I should miss the sermon if we went any 
day but Sunday, for I know naught about their week 
day meeting.” 

Sophy did not dare to say that this was just what 
she desired ; so she held her peace, and her husband 
added : 

I’ll send word to Elspeth ; and I warrant she will 
be glad enough to see the little puss. So get out your 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


127 


best bib and tucker, and be ready for an early start 
to-morrow. Oh, now I think of it, ’tis the very time 
to send the letter to Dorothy. We can take it to 
Haverhill, and Mr. Smith will find a trusty hand to 
take it on to Boston to be forwarded by post. Have 
you written yet ? 

This letter had in fact been composed with more 
anxious care and debate than Sophy had ever before 
bestowed on one of her ill-scrawled missives. She 
feared to write to Mercy direct, or to make the slight- 
est allusion to Donnycourt, lest Dorothy’s suspicions 
should be excited; only a little postscript to Mercy 
was added under the seal, urging her to come; and 
the letter folded, sealed, and directed had lain in 
Sophy’s desk for several days, awaiting a convenient 
opportunity to start it on its way southward. Many 
times Sophy had been tempted to take it out and burn 
it ; but now the opportunity for that was past. To 
her husband’s direct question, she could only answer: 

Yes, the letter is sealed and addressed.” 

hope you wrote very persuasively. We really 
must have Mercy with us for a time,” he said, pleas- 
antly, then he went out to meet Douglas Folinsbee 
in the hay field and to send word to Elspeth. 

That matter was easily settled. Elspeth had 
helped in setting their new home in order, and had 
even, at Nathanael’s request, bought for them sundry 


128 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


articles of kitchen and household furnishing at the 
vendue of the former owners of the farm, before 
Sophy appeared in the neighborhood at all. Thus 
she felt a special interest in the welfare of the new 
inmates. Dorothy’s skill and knowledge in house- 
hold matters had gained her admiration and respect ; 
but, as is not uu usual with notable housewives, her 
heart was won by the more inexperienced Sophy, and 
the demure little maiden, whom she called ^^a canny 
wean’’ was the joy of her heart. It was her pride 
and pleasure to be called upon for advice or assist- 
ance; and being a good-hearted woman and specially 
wise in culinary and other housekeeping art, Sophy 
found her a most useful neighbor. 

On this particular Sunday morning Elspeth ap- 
peared soon after sunrise to offer help in the morn- 
ing work and to take Penelope home with her to 
breakfast, after her parents had had their early ^^bit 
and sup,” and Black Bess with her double burden, 
had started at a gentle canter down the lane. 

The fresh dewy morning, the early sunbeams gleam- 
ing in the sliort wet grass by the dusty roadside ; the 
breeze rolling in green billows the wide stretching 
fields of tall grass yet waiting for the hay harvest ; 
the deep blue of the sky overhead, only broken bv a 
few feathery clouds near the horizon, flung off like 
down from his bed as the sun rose ; the twitter and 



« 


Colonial Pays. 


Pago 129. 











A 








c- 

r 

. - J 



> 









» 



« 

• > ► 


I 




« 






•» 


N 



i- ■. 



I 



>< r . .#4» 



'j 




I 



T, 


t 




*. . : t * 







f 




IN COLONIAL BAYS. 


129 


chirp of the birds seeking for the proverbially early 
worm, — all brought light and gladness to the merry 
and healthy little matron perched on the pillion. 
Her eyes grew brighter, her cheeks took on a deeper 
pink, and she looked like one who had not a care in 
the world. It was not acting, nor was it thoughtless 
forgetfulness, that caused Sophy’s vexation with 
Donnycourt and her anxious forebodings concerning 
Mercy to dwindle, like the shadows before the rapidly 
mounting sun. Most of our troubles are visible or 
invisible, according to the atmosphere through which 
we look at them. It is but rarely that we come upon 
a sorrow or a trouble that wraps us in its own dark 
and heavy atmosphere, through which nothing but 
the light of God’s own presence can penetrate to 
bring light and comfort. 

Now in this beautiful fresh morning it was im- 
possible for her not to believe that all would come 
right in the end, whatever might take place in her 
feelings when the fierce noonday glare had drunk up 
the sparkling dewdrops and laid a heavy hand on the 
throat of the breeze, leaving nothing to relieve the 
J uly heat and dust. 

They reached Haverhill in time to alight, and to 
present their compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Smith be- 
fore proceeding to the meeting-house, and of course 

the unfailing invitation to dinner was urged and ac- 

I 


130 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


cepted. In that day few but the judges on circuit 
were expected to eat or sleep at a tavern, when on 
their travels, and one venerable host notes that on ac- 
count of advanced age he has to restrict his house- 
hold, and those that dine under his roof average but 
seventy daily. 

Mrs. Hezekiah Smith they find to be a person of 
prepossessing appearance and manners, who by her 
tact and good sense wins both the grave Nathanael 
and his volatile little wife. But in truth after the 
dinner hour is over the ladies see little of Nathanael 
or of Mr. Smith. When the shadows are lengthening 
and Black Bess stands again at the door, the gentle- 
men come into the parlor from Mr. Smith’s study and 
Nathanael after making his farewell acknowledgments 
to the hostess, turns to Mr. Smith, saying : 

I thank you most heartily for all your words to- 
day, both in the pulpit and in private.” 

‘‘God grant that they may bring a blessing to you,” 
responded Mr. Smith, with a warm clasp of the hand. 

Before Sophy could well understand, or grasp the 
meaning of this, she was again mounted behind her 
husband, and Black Bess was stepping out on the 
homeward way almost as freshly as in the early morn- 
ing. Sophy waited nervously for her husband to 
speak, and soon he said, as if pursuing a train of 
thought ; 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


131 


a new country, one feels like taking up a new 
life, and leaving behind all the dust and travel marks 
of the old. What do you think, Sophy?” 

don’t think that I understand exactly,” said 
Sophy doubtfully. Was that what kept you so long 
talking with Mr. Smith?” 

‘‘True, true, how should you understand? Your 
innocent heart has no travel marks,” said Nathanael 
patting the little hand that clung to his belt. “ But I 
am not as good as you, Sophy.” 

There was a curious almost pathetic ring in his 
voice, that made Sophy feel as if the solid earth was 
being strangely turned around. Kindly indulgence 
was nothing new. She had received that from her 
husband ever since she knew him; but that he should 
seem to appeal to her as above himself gave her a 
strange thrill of pain, quickly followed by a passion- 
ate desire to give him the sympathy he craved. 

“You are always kind and good to me, and I am 
not good,” she cried with anxious eagerness. “You 
often stopped me when I scolded about Rupert.” 

Nathanael smiled sadly. What were her little 
tempests in a tea-cup compared to the deep silent 
hatred and envy that had rankled in his heart? He 
had not checked her outbursts from any desire that 
she should feel kindly towards his cousin’s family. 
It was rather from a feeling of the inadequacy of 


132 


IN COLONIAL LAYS. 


such expressions and their utter fruitlessness. Still 
he could not but be touched by her evident longing to 
comfort him, and it led him to say more. 

“ It is small credit to me to be good to you, Sophy 
he replied, as he lifted the slender fingers from his 
belt and kissed them with a gallantry that Arthur 
Donnycourt himself could not have surpassed, and a 
sincerity to which the gay captain seldom, if ever, 
attained ; ^^but I have thought much of late of actual 
goodness, of goodness as God sees and judges. I 
would give a great deal to win that, to feel that I was 
clean in his sight.’^ 

He did not speak with any excitement; on the con- 
trary he seemed very calm, but there was a ring of 
intense earnestness in his voice that startled Sophy. 
She had seen him excited, indignant, over provoca- 
tion or injustice to himself or to others; but that did 
not affect her; she knew that it would pass over, and 
to her he would be just the same. Now it was some- 
thing different. She had a foreboding that this new 
earnestness meant a complete change in her husband ; 
something that would make a gap between them. 

she thought, if I only knew what to say to 
him! If I knew how Mr. Smith talked to him!’^ 
but in her bewilderment and desperation she could 
not even think of a text of Scripture to quote. At 
last she said in a timidly suggestive way : 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


133 


Would you be willing to read prayers in the 
evening ? In the morning there is hardly time, but 
we could arrange very well after supper, if you are 
not too tired.’^ 

Yes,’^ replied Nathanael, after a moment of hesi- 
tation; “I ought to have suggested that myself; I 
will do it.” 

‘‘And on Sunday morning you might read the 
Collect for the day and the Lessons,” continued 
Sophy; “I try to make Penelope read them with 
me, but we do not always remember.” 

“ Perhaps,” said Nathanael, “ it might not always 
be convenient. I could not have done it on this 
Sunday for instance.” 

“ But this ride is an exception. It would be a 
good thing for Penelope,” said Sophy. 

Why did she persist, was it entirely for the reasons 
she gave, or was she hoping to weaken Mr. Smithes 
influence and to hold together that dreaded gap? If 
it was, she did not as yet own it to herself. 

Nathanael gave no thought to any such questions. 
When he became interested his mind was fully ab- 
sorbed by the subject before it, and he did not stop 
to suspect or question on any apparently irrelevant 
matters. Sophy was evidently sympathizing with 
him after her way and according to her lights, and in 
the newly awakened longing for something better and 


134 


IN CX)LONIAL DAYS. 


nobler than he had yet attained to in life, he poured 
out to her those feelings and aspirations that he had 
never before mentioned. 

It has been all a sham and a deceit before/’ he 
said at last, ‘^but now I want to begin at the very 
beginning and to be true throughout. I told Mr. 
Smith that I would not again show insult and irrev- 
erence to God by offering to him less than the whole 
strength and purpose of my heart and life. He com- 
mended me in that, but he bade me beware that I did 
not act falsely in feigning an indifference to matters 
of religion which lay not in my heart. He said that 
we were always prone to run to extremes, because we 
were unwilling to show ourselves as the ignorant and 
doubting creatures that we really are ; and he bade 
me search the Scriptures diligently as the only guide. 
Thy suggestion chimes well with his, little wife, and 
together we will give heed to it.” 

The glow of the summer sunset had faded as 
they thus talked, unheeding the time. The stars 
were glimmering in the dusky sky and the sleepy 
music of the frogs and the katydids, with an occa- 
sional twittering chirp from a dreaming bird, or a 
crowded nestling filled the warm stillness of the 
twilight as they cantered up the lane to their own 
house door. 

‘‘You are tired with the long ride,” said Nathanael 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


135 


as lie carefully swung Sophy’s light figure to the 
mounting-block. ^‘Send the little lass to bed and 
we will close the house betimes.” 

The new light in which he was viewing his own 
conduct made him repent of the sullen thoughts he 
had cherished against his wife, while on the journey 
to and from New York. He took himself to task 
none the less severely because he could not ask her 
forgiveness, and his manner towards her was more 
than usually tender and considerate. Sophy was 
trembling, it is true, but it was not from the fatigue 
of the ride, nor was it the visit to Mrs. Smith that 
kept her brain thinking, planning, wondering in 
bewildered excitement, long after she had laid her 
head on the pillow. 


CHAPTER XL 


SUCCESS OF DONNYCOUKT’s PLAN. 

rriHE loug hot days of July were over; and August, 
“*■ with its cooler nights and its fields whose yel- 
lowing tints seemed to indicate that they had drunk 
their fill of the golden sunlight, gave gentle reminder 
that summer was waning. 

All went on peacefully at the new home near 
Chelmsford. Nathanael’s new thoughtfulness did not 
make him gloomy ; on the contrary he was brighter 
and happier than Sophy had ever known him. The 
evening prayers had become a regular event in the 
day, and the Sunday reading was often added at times 
when they found it difficult to get to church. But 
Sophy, while she rejoiced at her husband’s increased 
happiness and contentment, noted with foreboding 
that his interest tended more to the Baptist than to 
their own church, and that the Bible was more and 
more used, as the Prayer Book was almost imper- 
ceptibly superseded. She once said after a visit from 
Mr. Hezekiah Smith when he had by request taken 
Nathanael’s place at evening prayers and had offered 
extempore prayer: 

136 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


137 


‘‘Mr. Smith has fine command of language, but I 
think nothing can equal our own beautiful prayers 
that bear so many sacred associations.’^ 

“They are beautiful and hallowed as you say,” 
replied Nathanael, “but, Sophy, if you were praying 
for my life in serious illness would you think of the 
beauty, or would you cry out in the language of your 
own heart to God for help.” 

“The words of our prayere and collects are so fa- 
miliar that they would come to me naturally,” replied 
Sophy; but she felt that it was not an honest answer; 
indeed, the bare thought of Nathanael’s life being in 
danger seemed something that her mind could not 
grasp. A few days later, when she again referred to 
“ our church,” Nathanael replied : 

“ I am not a member of any church, Sophy. How 
can one who is not really a Christian belong to any 
Christian church ? ” 

“But, Nathanael, think of your baptism, of your 
confirmation, of your — ” She stopped, hesitating at 
the word she was about to say, but Nathanael finished 
the sentence. 

“ Of my ordination, you would say. Aye, Sophy, 
I have thought long and often of all these. And 
what if the first two be as unmeaning a farce as the 
last.” 

“Oh, it is Rupert who is to blame for all these 


138 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


dreadful thoughts that come to you,” cried Sophy, 
passionately. 

‘^No, no,” said Nathanael hastily. will never 
try to shift my sins on another man’s shoulders. 
Would ^a child of God, a joint heir with Christ,’ 
as the Prayer Book hath it in the baptismal service, 
hazard his Father’s anger and place his birthright in 
jeopardy to gratify an envious spite against a fellow 
mortal ? ” 

‘^ Penelope ofttimes angers me, but she is none the 
less our child,” said Sophy driven to unwonted at- 
tempt at logic by her distress. 

‘^Ah, but that is different,” said Nathanael sadly. 

I was not born a child of God, I was baptized 
such, and, truth to tell, I think that I was nearer to 
God when living with my mother, than after the day 
when my grandfather said that I must get ready to be 
baptized in Rodmanhurst Cliurch, since doubtless both 
Christianity and civilization were little considered 
among the American savages.” 

But you think differently now,” urged Sophy, 
hope I do. I mean to,” said Nathanael doubt- 
fully. ^‘But all that time I was pretending to be 
what I was not, or rather other people pretended for 
me, since it was none of my wish or arrangement.” 

He broke off the conversation here, but Sophy 
could not fail to see whither he was tending. 


m COLONIAL DAYS. 


139 


A letter had come from Dorothy, but no definite 
plan had been arranged for Mercy’s visit, for none of 
their friends happened to be at that time going to 
Boston, and Mercy could not travel alone. Sophy was 
more relieved than disappointed, but Nathanael was 
not content thus to let the matter rest. He learned 
that Mr. Smith expected to go to Providence in the 
latter part of August, in order to attend the Com- 
mencement exercises, and he took occasion to ride 
over to Haverhill with a letter, which he requested 
Mr. Smith to deliver to Dorothy, and to use all his 
persuasions to induce Mercy to return with him. 

He had also, during this visit, a long conversation 
with Mr. Smith on matters of religion, and the result 
was that Nathanael returned home with a heart more 
at ease than he had known for years, and the good 
minister started southward with the consciousness that 
he had news for the two sisters that would greatly 
cheer their hearts, concerning their half-brother. 

He reached the home of his old friend in Provi- 
dence Mr. Nicholas Brown, on the twenty-eighth of 
August and, as he could remain only two nights, Mr. 
Brown insisted that Jim, a bright negro boy, should 
be despatched with the letter to Mistress Seaton. 

I promised to use my own best endeavors to per- 
suade Mistress Mercy to comply with their request that 
she should make them a visit,” said Mr. Smith; ^^and 


140 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


I would speak with them concerning their brother. 
I trust that his eyes are being opened to perceive the 
grace of God towards repentant sinners, and that he 
will soon be enabled to lay hold of the promises, and 
to find in them peace and comfort to his soul.^^ 

I am heartily glad to hear such things,” replied 
Mr. Brown ; and I know it will greatly rejoice our 
good friends. Mistress Seaton spoke to me on that 
subject a few weeks since, and at the time she re- 
marked upon a certain restlessness and disinclination 
towards all matters of religion that she had noted 
in Reuben during the constant intercourse with his 
uncle’s family. She also noted a depression of spirits 
in her sister, and these things caused her to question 
whether it would be well for the spiritual welfare of 
either should they accept the kind invitations of Mr. 
and Mrs. Rodman to visit them in their new home.” 

She would find a great change in that respect in 
the household,” replied Mr. Smith ; “ and it is prob- 
able that the effort to help and cheer her brother 
might be the surest means of reviving Mistress 
Mercy’s drooping spirits and strengthening her faith.” 

‘‘ Then let me despatch Jim at once with the let- 
ter,” said Mr. Brown ; Mr. President hopes to con- 
fer with you to-morrow, as he has much on which to 
consult with you concerning the Commencement next 
week. And if, as you say, you must go on to New- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


141 


port on Friday, Mrs. Brown will try her persuasions 
during your absence.’^ 

Mr. Smith agreed to this arrangement, as it was 
evidently impossible for him to find the time to go 
out to the Fythe Farm at this time. He wrote a few 
lines which he enclosed with Nathanael’s letter in a 
packet and the whole was given to Jim, who set ofi‘ 
at once on a smart run to fulfill his errand. 

'‘He is a bright, active, little fellow,” said Mr. 
Smith watching him. 

"Yes,” replied Mr. Brown; "a great deal more 
active than old Pete, so I am training him to run 
errands. He is a little thoughtless, but he is never 
intentionally careless.” 

The two gentlemen went back into the house, just 
as Jim’s quick feet slackened their pace. A low whis- 
tle had attracted his attention. He looked towards 
the house, but the door had closed behind his master; 
and he was in doubt as to whether the whistle was in- 
tended as a signal to himself when a dusky face peeped 
out from a narrow alley near to which he stood, and 
an unsteady voice called in low tones ; 

"Jim I Where goin’?” 

"Hullo, Sam, dat you? Is cap’n come back?” 
inquired Jim. 

"No, no, but where you goin’ in such a pow’ful 
hurry?” replied Sam, coming a little nearer. 


142 


m COLONIAL DAYS. 


^^Dar you’s been at it agen/^ exclaimed Jim in 
tones of deep disgust. I never seed a nig so bound 
to kill hisself on rum. Cap’n ’ll get rid of you for 
skua ’for’ long. And jist serve you right too.” 

Do’n’ cut up like that, Jim, when you might do a 
pore fellah a good turn,” said Sam in a sniveling 
whine. 

^AVhat you want?” retorted Jim, ain’t no time 
to fool wid the likes of you,” and he cast a glance of 
such withering scorn, as only negroes know how to 
mete out to each other. 

’Tain’t my fault,” began Sam. ^^Massa he tole 
me to tak’ this letter an’ give it to Miss Mercy Fythe, 
an’ I tuk it — ’pon my sole, I did — but she wouldn’t 
luk at me, she jist walk away fast to the house and I 
dassaut go up to the do’, for massa he say ^give it to 
hersel’ quiet, Sam.’ But how is I to give it to hersel’ 
if she walks away? I ax you dat.” 

Any lady ’ud walk away from that smell o’ rum,” 
retorted Jim, still with haughty superiority. 

Sam was nettled by it at last and answered sharply : 
you’s goin’ to ak like dat, I’ll jist tak mysel’ 
off. Think I’d go drinking ’for ’ I went up dar wid 
the letter ? Sho ! ” 

^‘What do you want then?” answered Jim. 

I jist thought mebbe you could get the letter to 
her. I’d jist hang roun’ an’ see it all right, and then 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


143 


go back to de cap’n an’ tell him its all right. I is 
clean ’feared to take it back to him, and that’s what 
set me to drink, ’pon my word ; Jim, dat’s true. I’d 
give you that rather’n anger the cap’n,” and Sam 
mysteriously lowered his voice and showed the gleam 
of a small silver coin in his dark palm. 

‘‘ Wull, I don’ care if I do,” replied Jim slowly re- 
laxing from his high and mighty tone, and Sam 
quickly whipped out the sealed packet addressed to 
Mistress Mercy Fythe. 

A slight altercation followed as to whether pay- 
ment should be made before or after the service was 
rendered, but Jim was too wary to yield that point 
and the silver piece, reluctantly on Sam’s part, changed 
hands. Then Jim scampered off through the deepen- 
ing twilight, trying to make up for lost time by extra 
fleetness of foot. 

Mercy sat on the porch ostensibly knitting, Dorothy 
was on the chair beside her and Keuben was sitting on 
one of the steps of the porch, while Jonathan Pursell 
leaned against one of the posts. The talk ran princi- 
pally upon the approaching Commencement exercises 
but Mercy hardly heard what was said. 

Sam was quite honest in saying that he had not 
been drinking before he went to the Fythe Farm, and 
that was not Mercy’s reason for avoiding him. She 
had forbidden Donnycourt to write to her, and ever 


144 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


since his departure, between a natural longing to hear 
news of him, and a fear that she had acted wrongly 
in giving him any encouragement, her nerves and 
spirits were becoming sadly weak and variable. 

When that afternoon she saw Sam approaching her 
as she was watering the rose-bushes, she guessed at 
once what brought him there. She had seen him in 
Newport and recognized him as Captain Don ny court’s 
servant. If Dorothy happened to look from the win- 
dow and saw her talking to the man, she would be 
questioned, she knew; and in truth Mercy was not 
the material out of which to make a heroine of a 
romantic adventure, for almost involuntarily she 
turned and went into the house as fast as she could 
without actually running away. She saw Sam loiter 
about and then go on and disappear around the bend 
in the road, and as soon as he was fairly out of sight 
and her nervous dread lest Dorothy should notice him 
was relieved, she began to imagine all sorts of mis- 
haps that might have' befallen Arthur, and to feel 
that she would give anything to get possession of the 
letter with which she suspected that Sam had been 
entrusted. It was no wonder that she could not sit 
still listening to Jonathan and Dorothy’s talk and 
quietly knitting. After one or two distraught an- 
swers when she was addressed, she got up and saun- 
tered down the little path to the gate. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


145 


Dorothy called to her, as the twilight deepened, 
to put on a shawl, but she did not heed, and stood 
watching the stars slowly twinkling out in the blue 
vault above her, and striving to calm her harassed 
mind. The pat pat of bare feet on the dusty road 
gave her a start and she discerned Jim coming along 
at a lively pace, he slackened his steps and pulled 
himself into order as he approached, but a very little 
was enough to make her tremble now. 

It’s a letter please for Miss Seaton as massa tells 
me to bring wid Massa Smith’s compliments, and he’ll 
call hissel’ when he comes back from Newport,” said 
Jim fumbling with the two packets. 

Oh,” said Mercy, Mrs. Seaton is on the porch,” 
and she opened the gate to let him pass. She was too 
conscious of her own unreasonable start and tremu- 
lousness to care to meet Dorothy’s keen glance herself, 
but she found that Jim was trying to slip a packet 
into her hand and fortunately she took them both, for 
in his haste and inexperience in such matters he was 
on the point of giving Mr. Smith’s letter to Mercy 
and carrying Captain Donnycourt’s to Dorothy. 

Even in the dim light Mercy recognized the writ- 
ing and the seal on Donnycourt’s letter and she 
slipped it hastily into the pocket that hung at her 
side, before Dorothy, who had heard her own name, 

came forward to get her letter, and to take the boy to 
K 


146 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


the kitchen, for a rest and a mouthful of supper be- 
fore he went back again. 

Now that the letter was fairly in her possession, 
forced upon her almost in spite of herself, Mercy’s 
impatience could not be restrained. While Dorothy 
was making slow, and stately preparations to read her 
epistle ; inviting Mr. Pursell to enter and hear word 
of Mr. Smith ; striking a light and lighting the can- 
dles in the tall silver candlesticks, Mercy had flown 
up-stairs to her own room and with trembling fingers 
had broken the seal. 

The amount of ink in proportion to the words was 
very large as Captain Donnycourt’s detestation of 
writing was sufficient to make even his love-letters 
concise and to the point. And possibly he intended 
by the softness of the quill pen he used to indicate 
delicately the state of his heart. At all events the 
lines were heavy enough for Mercy’s young eyes to 
decipher them by the moonlight that was shining in 
at the eastern window. 

My Darling : — I cannot live longer without seeing your 
sweet face. Have you forgotten your promise? If you 
cannot go to your brother’s, I must come again to tlie 
Farm. Three long months of absence have made me des- 
perate. Send at least one line I pray you to 

Your devoted adorer, a. d. 

Mercy turned cold as ice as she read these lines. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


147 


If she had not received them, he would have come 
himself! The thought of her sister’s displeasure 
was more terrible to her after these months of 
silence than it would have been had she from the 
first made known Donnycourt’s attentions to her. 
Dorothy’s voice calling to her aroused her before 
she could decide what to say or do. She went 
down-stairs in a misery of doubt as to what she 
should do, or how she should answer Donnycourt. 
The reading of Nathanael’s letter and the brief note 
from Mr. Smith seemed to offer a direct solution of all 
her anxieties. When the first invitation from Sophy 
came she was relieved by the thought that she need 
not accept it at once, for she knew that Donnycourt 
counted upon this, as a means of having freer inter- 
course with her. Now she looked forward with satis- 
faction to any release from the secrecy and anxiety 
that were oppressing her. 

While the boy is resting himself, I will write a 
line to thank Mr. Smith for his courtesy, and to ask 
him to stay with us on his return from Newport,” 
said Dorothy. ^^It is indeed joyful tidings that he 
sends us, and I thiuk Mercy it is, as he says, an 
opportunity for you to do much good. So I hardly 
feel justified in keeping you here, much as I shall 
miss you. What say you, dear?” 

I will go,” replied Mercy, in low tones. 


148 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


The difference between her own and her sister’s 
thoughts struck her painfully. She could not tell 
how it was, but she seemed to be drifting helplessly 
wrong; and to talk of her doing good to any one 
seemed sadly incongruous. Just now, while Doro- 
thy’s heart was full of sisterly joy and sympathy 
with Nathanael, she was perplexing herself as to how 
to get word to Donnycourt that would hinder him 
from coming to Providence. She picked up a sheet 
of letter paper, as Dorothy was arranging her writing 
materials, and wrote hastily in pencil : 

I am going to my brother’s. M. F. 

Then she slipped out to the kitchen while Dorothy 
was writing, and questioned Jim as to how he got 
possession of the second letter that he had given her. 
Finding that Sam was still in Providence, she relin- 
quished a vague idea of sending an answer by Jim, 
and merely bade him tell Sam that she wished to 
see him the next morning. Here was now an op- 
portunity to write a more satisfactory letter to her 
lover, but although Mercy had so many hours before 
her, and although she slept little that night, the 
missive that was intrusted to Sam the following 
morning contained not one line more than the 
hastily penciled words. She could not bring her- 
self to write. 


CHAPTER XII. 


MERCY^S VISIT TO CHELMSFORD. 

rjIHE Sim had set in a glory of crimson and gold, and 
the big round September moon was just lifting 
her face, also crimson but with a reflected and placid 
glow, above the hill of tasseled maize that bordered 
the eastern horizon as seen from Nathanael Rodman^s 
front door. The calm moon looked down upon an 
unusually bustling scene. Horses were stamping, 
voices were raised in eager welcome and rapid ques- 
tioning and the whole household was in a state of ex- 
citement over the arrival of the long-expected guest. 
Nor had Mercy come alone. Reuben had been sent 
as her escort, since it could not conveniently be ar- 
ranged that she should travel entirely under Mr. 
Smith’s care, as he had to stop on the way to attend 
the Association at Sutton. It was therefore settled 
that Reuben and Mercy should go by stage-coach to 
Boston and Nathanael had ridden in on Black Bess 
and with a led horse, in order to fetch the trav- 
elers the remaining twenty-five miles to Chelmsford. 
Reuben was in the highest of good spirits over his 
new dignity, but poor Mercy looked sadly worn and 

149 


150 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


fatigued. Without delay Sophy carried her off to 
rest and to brush off the dust of the journey in the 
little room that had been prepared for her, but no 
sooner were the two alone, than Mercy threw her 
arms about her bright little hostess and dropped her 
weary head on her shoulder while deep sighs that 
were almost sobs shook her frame. 

There, darling, you are overtired,’^ said Sophy 
kindly, as she untied the strings and took off the veil 
and traveling hat which partly concealed Mercy^s 
features. Come and bathe your face; it will refresh 
you. I will run and fetch my sal volatile.’^ 

But Mercy shook her head and tried to smile, 
though she dared not yet trust her voice. After a 
minute she seemed to recover herself, and having 
bathed her face, she said with an attempt at brightness : 

I did not think I should be so silly. Don’t ask 
me to explain now. The journey upset me, and I was 
so afraid that I should cry and set everybody wonder- 
ing and questioning me about my red eyes. Don’t 
take any notice of my foolishness. I will tell you 
everything after awhile, when we can be alone and 
quiet for a time.” 

Sophy was both relieved and surprised at the reso- 
lute control that Mercy put upon herself. It showed 
the gentle, sensitive maiden in a new light to her. 
But she readily took the cue given her and chatted 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


151 


gavly about eveiy-day matters. Meanwhile she helped 
to arrange the glossy hair and to set off the plain 
traveling dress with a few skillful touches of her deft 
fingers. They had brought only such articles as would 
go in the saddle-bags ; the heavier things were left to 
come by the carrier the following day. 

In a short time Mercy was ready to present herself 
in the dining-room, where supper was waiting. She 
went through the meal with her usual quiet manner, 
but a chance word from Reuben explained to Sophy 
her previous agitation. He was eagerly denying that 
it had been at all a fatiguing journey : 

^‘1 am not tired one bit and I enjoyed myself all 
the time,” he asserted, ^^but particularly after Captain 
Donnycourt got into the stage at Attleborough. It 
was good fun to listen to his stories, and to hear him 
quiz the other passengers.” 

Sophy glanced apprehensively first at Mercy and 
then at her husband. The former was outwardly per- 
fectly calm and composed, but she said nothing and 
did not lift her eyes. Nathanael, on the contrary, 
looked up just in time to catch his wife^s eye, as she 
glanced at him and he remarked pleasantly: 

^^Ah, yes, he is a capital companion when he tries 
to be agreeable and entertaining. I am sorry that 
I did not know he was still in Boston, and look 
him up.” 


152 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Tliis was meant as an amende honorable for the 
sharpness that he used to display whenever Donny- 
court’s name was mentioned. 

Reuben, who, at former times, had been snubbed 
by his uncle whenever he mentioned the gay captain 
would now have eagerly continued his favorite theme, 
but Sophy adroitly turned the conversatiou. She had 
the clue now to Mercy’s agitation, and she determined 
at the first opportunity to persuade the young girl to 
confide to her the actual state of affairs between her- 
self and Donnycourt. 

Mercy had regained her usual composure; indeed 
Reuben’s mention of Donnycourt had done her good 
rather than harm, for she had been dreading remarks 
and questions from Nathanael when the matter should 
be mentioned. Now it was all over and done with, 
in the simplest and most natural way, and she 
breathed more freely. 

They were sitting quietly together after supper, 
the candles had been lighted, and Sophy had just 
gone up-stairs to say a last good-night to Penelope ; 
and Reuben, who was sleepy from the effects of his 
journey and his hearty supper, was nodding peril- 
ously in a high straight-backed chair, when Nathanael 
said, after a pause : 

I am glad to see you at all times, Mercy ; but 
just now I am particularly glad, for I need your 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


153 


help. Did Mr. Smith tell you what conversation he 
and I have had together?” 

“ Yes,” replied Mercy, and Dorothy wished me 
to tell you how very sincerely we all rejoice. She 
has prayed for you constantly ; you are very dear to 
her, brother. She is so quiet and reserved that until 
you came I hardly knew how much she thought of 
you. 1 wish that she were here to help you. She is 
so much wiser and better than I am. But if you 
think I can at all help you, I will gladly try.” 

Mercy had the impression that Nathanael intended 
to lay before her some spiritual difficulties and doubts, 
but she need not have disquieted herself. It was a 
very clear and decided voice that spoke. 

“You are both true friends, Mercy. I thought to 
find some little tie of kinship, but I hardly hoped for 
the hearty welcome, and the deep interest in me and 
mine which I have met with. It is this, as well as 
more direct teaching, that has at last brought me to 
understand the religion that you profess.” 

“Then you do understand, you do accept it ?” said 
Mercy eagerly. 

“Yes,” he replied slowly, “I understand that I 
have for years been sinning against a love greater 
than human mind can compass; and now I wish to 
begin as nearly right as one can who has been stum- 
bling along in the darkness till his eyes can poorly 


154 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


understand the light. In brief, Mercy, I wish to be- 
gin my new life with the Baptists, but — he paused 
a moment and then spoke more rapidly, ^‘1 know 
this will be a blow to Sophy. She does not in her 
sweet innocence understand the doubts and question- 
ings that may assail a man ; and she will see no rea- 
son why I should question the teachings of the church 
in which she has always worshiped with loving, rev- 
erent faith. Will you help me to make it plain to 
her that I act only from an honest and earnest desire 
to do exactly as the Book teaches ? ’’ 

Here he laid his hand on the Bible on a table at 
his elbow. It had not been moved since the evening 
prayers, which now came regularly every night just 
after supper and before Penelope went to bed. 

I will do all that I can,^’ said Mercy. “ Sophy 
will surely understand and rejoice.^’ 

‘^Yes, oh, yes!’^ replied ^^’athanael quickly. *^I 
only meant that if she speaks to you, you will know 
my feelings, and how to answer her. I desire to be 
baptized when Mr. Smith returns, and I will tell 
her myself about the matter.” 

He had made up his mind to speak to Mercy, be- 
cause he was convinced that this gentle girl would 
understand his wife’s feelings better than a rough 
man like himself; but it jarred on him to think ot 
any difference of opinion between himself and Sophy, 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


155 


SO he was glad to turn to other matters. He began 
questioning about the Commencement and the new 
College building. Then Sophy came down-stairs; and 
Reuben, roused up by the additional stir, shook him- 
self, tried to look as though he was wide awake, and 
then succumbed and went off to bed. 

Not long after his departure the tall clock in the 
hall struck nine, the hour when bedroom candles 
were lighted and good-nights were spoken in decorous 
farm households. Sophy very punctually noted the 
hour, and at the first stroke folded away the bit of 
ruffling^ that she was hemstitchino:. 

You need a good beauty sleep to bring back your 
roses after the fatigues of the journey,^’ she said to 
Mercy, as she took the candle that Nathanael lighted 
for his sister, and led the way up the stairs. But, 
once shut into Mercy’s room, the fatigues and beauty 
sleep were forgotten. 

^^Let me act as maid to you, and brush out your 
hair,” she said placing the candle on the toilet table 
before the old-fashioned small swinging-glass, and 
gently pushing Mercy into an arm-chair. ^^And 
while I am busy, you must tell me, dear, just what 
this graceless cousin of mine has been about. I fear 
that his infatuation has made him rash and overbold. 
Confess, sweetheart, that you liked not his scheme to 
meet you in the stage.” 


156 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Then it was a preconcerted plan ! exclaimed 
Mercy. ‘^Oh, how could he so deceive me? He 
assured me that it was pure accident that brought 
him to Attleborough, and that seeing me in the coach, 
he could not forbear sending his servant on with his 
horse, and taking a seat in the stage for the return 
journey.’^ 

^‘Nay, nay, child; I know naught of the matter, 
but what you tell me,’^ answered Sophy quickly. “ I 
merely hazarded a suspicion that a certain pair of eyes 
had attracted him. You must tell me all that I am 
to believe; for what sense did one ever get from a 
man in love? If I am not in total darkness, I am 
in what Elspeth Folinsbee calls the ^gloaming,’ and 
that half light is often more deceptive than total 
darkness. 

‘^Oh, Sophy, what can I say?’^ replied Mercy de- 
spairingly. I fear that the whole matter is grievously 
wrong, else why is it that I have not known a peaceful 
hour since the first moment that it came to me that he 
cared for me? ’’ 

The face that met Sophy’s gaze, as she raised her 
eyes to the glass bore an expression of harassed 
misery, so utterly unlike the shy gentleness which had 
been a characteristic of the quiet, almost childlike 
young girl, that Sophy was startled completely out of 
her bantering tone. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


157 


Child, if Arthur Donnycourt is destroying your 
happiness, I will never forgive him,’’ she exclaimed 
with a sudden energy that startled Mercy in her turn. 
^‘If you rue your decision, just confide in me, sweet- 
heart, and we will send him packing about his business. 
Trust me, no one will ever learn of the matter from 
me.” 

“Sophy, what do you mean?” exclaimed Mercy, 
half bewildered and wholly shocked. “ You can 
surely never think that I would play the jilt, and 
break his heart.” 

“Yousense,” retorted Sophy; “men’s hearts, like 
their promises, are made to be broken, my dear; and, 
as neither are worth much, the damage is not great. 
I would break the hearts of a dozen rakish captains, 
rather than see such trouble in your sweet face.” 

She was thoroughly roused, and in that moment 
Mercy had a glimpse of the imperious little beauty 
who had received with bewitching scorn the homage 
of many a ruffling beau and gay macaroni before the 
grave Nathanael carried off the loyal and passionate 
little heart that beat true as steel under all the gay 
fripperies and mocking smiles of a lady of fashion. 

“How can you say such things?” cried Mercy. 
“Dorothy always taught me that a woman should 
remember that the man who woos her offers her the 
highest honor that he can; and even if she must 


158 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


refuse him, she should do it decorously and courte- 
ously. He is not rakish, and he said, it was just 
my — my — being unlike fashionable ladies, that made 
him wish to be better ; that — oh, Sophy ! it is such 
an awful responsibility in my hands. I would I 
knew how to do him good; to lead him aright.’^ 

She had broken off from her rather stammering 
explanation, and now sat with tearful eyes and glow- 
ing cheeks, and hands clasped on her knee, with an 
eager fervor that again swayed the impulsive little 
matron. 

She does really care for him,’’ was her mental 
comment; but aloud she said, with rather a keen 
glance at the face reflected in the glass, while she 
resumed the hair brushing more tranquilly: 

‘‘Dorothy’s precept would be right enough if every 
man was a Sir Charles Grandison, or even a Mr. 
Jonathan Pursell.” 

At the latter name the quick blood mounted to 
Mercy’s cheek, but it was unmistakably the flush of 
annoyance. 

“It is the concealment that troubles me. I thought 
not of breaking my promise,” she said with something 
of her usual quiet reserve. “ I sometimes wish now 
that I had told all to Dorothy at first. I hardly know 
why I did not. It was foolish timidity, I suppose 
you will say. This unexpected meeting in the stage 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


159 


upset me, and of course there we could talk of nothing 
but the ordinary topics. I mean, however, to tell 
Captain Donny court, that I will no longer hold him 
to this secrecy. I shall feel happy and contented as 
soon as that can be settled. Now, dear, you will wish 
me happiness, will you not?^^ she added tremulously 
putting up her hand to capture one of Sophy’s that 
was hovering with loving pats and caressing touch 
about the shining locks of soft brown hair. 

‘‘ I will do that with all my heart,” replied Sophy, 
putting both arms about Mercy’s neck; ‘^and indeed 
you could not help doing Arthur Donnycourt good. 
I did not mean to speak ill of him, he is not at all 
like many of the young men who have no hearts, and 
whose heads are only powdered wigs, filled with a 
knowledge of piquet and a stock of silly compliments, 
for which they expect young ladies to simper their 
thanks. Now I will only finish plaiting this braid, 
and then you must positively have a good rest.” 

As she said, Good-night,” and left the room, 
Sophy had a pretty clear opinion that Donnycourt was 
the real instigator of all the concealment that troubled 
Mercy, and that her own maladroit blame of him had 
stung Mercy into taking all the responsibility on her- 
self. It did not improve her opinion of Donnycourt, 
but she knew well that he would enjoy the spice of 
adventure, and also seriously desire not to take his 


160 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


place as formally betrothed, until he had some definite 
plan for his marriage. She did not exactly see what 
she should do next; but she firmly resolved that 
Mercy should have from her plenty of kind and wise 
advice. 

Nathanael was waiting for her with what patience 
he could, for this question of his baptism was too near 
to his heart, for him to delay telling her of his 
decision. Sophy listened and made no decided objec- 
tion. She had dreaded this; but now that it had come 
her main fear was lest it should raise any barrier be- 
tween herself and her husband, in whom all her hap- 
piness centered. He was more kind and gentle than 
ever, but she felt that for the first time in their mar- 
ried life, an influence stronger than her own had 
gained a permanent control over him, and it was with 
a troubled heart and anxious brain that she looked 
forward to the consequences of the step he was about 
to take. 


CHAPTER XIIL 

NATHANAEL RODMAN’s BAPTISM. 

TT was near the middle of September when the 
great man of Haverhill/’ as he was frequently 
called, arrived in Acton on his way home from Rhode 
Island. The fact that it was a ten-mile ride to Acton 
did not for a moment deter Nathanael when he 
learned that Mr. Smith would preach in Acton on 
the Lord’s Hay, and that the ordinance of baptism 
w^as to be administered between the morning and 
afternoon services. The arrangement was easily made 
that Nathanael should take Sophy on Black Bess, and 
that Reuben should take Mercy mounted behind him 
on Old Gray. Little Penelope had pleaded to be 
allowed to go, and Reuben was eager to suggest that 
she should ride behind him instead of his Aunt 
Mercy, but it was not expected that children should 
be ready with their suggestions; so Penelope only 
confided her regrets to Reuben when her mother 
decided that she should spend the day with the 
Folinsbees. 

^Mf Elspeth were at home, I should not mind so 

much,” remarked the little girl dolefully, ^^but she 
L 161 


162 


m COLO^flAL DAYS. 


is going to church, and there will be only old Goody 
Folinsbee. It is very, very dull.’^ 

Never mind, Pen,’^ said Reuben, ‘Svhen I get 
old enough to have a horse of my own like Captain 
Doiinycourt I will take you always behind 

He had seen Douglas Folinsbee’s mother, an old 
woman with a face wrinkled like a winter apple, and 
always framed in a big white frilled cap. She had 
lived on the borderland between England and Scot- 
land. Many a queer tale she could tell, if she chose, 
both of Scottish superstition and of English madcap 
adventures ; but she did not like children, and her 
toothless mouth and strong accent made it difficult 
to understand her; so Reuben heartily sympathized 
with the little maid who was to be condemned to 
spend the long bright September day in such com- 
panionship. 

These plans, however, met with an unexpected jar. 
It was Saturday evening, all the day’s work was fin- 
ished, and upon the quiet household had settled that 
hush with which the New En<^lauder be^an on the 
Saturday night his day of rest, when Mercy standing 
at tlie kitchen wdndow saw Douglas Folinsbee’s oldest 
child coming up the lane. She went out to meet the 
child, expecting a message concerning the arrange- 
ment for the next day, but Grizzie held in her hand 
a packet and said with a courtesy ; 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


163 


‘‘Father’s just got home frae Boston the night, and 
he said this was for Mistress Rodman, and I was to 
gie it to her ainseP.” 

“ Oh, it is the bit of lutestring for the new sleeve 
to ray gown,” said Sophy’s voice behind them. “Come 
to the kitchen, Grizzie, I have a sweet cake for you.” 

She took the small parcel, but Mercy had already 
caught sight of a letter tied to it, and she grew 
tremulous as she recognized the handwriting of 
Arthur Donnycourt. She followed into the kitchen 
and stood by the window feeling strangely excited 
and nervous, while Sophy thanked the child and 
sent her off with a round seed cake. 

After much deliberation, Mercy had written to 
Arthur, telling him that she was troubled and anx- 
ious, and thought it better that their engagement 
should be openly announced to her family. This 
was, no doubt, the answer to her letter, and in the 
short delay before the child was sent off, many con- 
jectnres had flitted through her mind. Had he taken 
her at her word, and sent a letter to her brother, 
formally asking his consent? or did Sophy’s letter 
enclose a billet to herself? 

“Come up-stairs to your room,” said Sophy, who 
was also eager and nervous, “ I will bring a candle.” 

The door was closed, the light obtained, and the 
parcel of lutestring tossed carelessly aside, while the 


164 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


two eager women bent over the sealed packet. As 
Sophy opened it a smaller folded sheet directed to 
Mercy fell out. She caught it up hurriedly and for a 
moment or two each read in silence. 

^^Oh, what ought I to do?^’ exclaimed Mercy. 
“ What has he told you ? He writes that he will see 
me to-morrow, as he intends to be at Acton to attend 
the preaching of Mr. Smith, of whom he has often 
heard us speak. I am glad he should be there. But, 
oh, Sophy, I dread meeting him again in this way ! 
What does he say to you ? 

Nothing of any importance ; read it,’’ said Sophy 
holding out the sheet. In truth it only contained a 
request that she would give the enclosed to Mercy, 
and would not forget her promise to help and advise 
them. Also there was a hint that between sermons 
they might have speech together and arrange matters. 

Evidently the young man knew nothing of the 
special interest the services of the following day had 
for them. He had heard that Mr. Smith was to 
preach, and surmised that they would arrange to go. 
Sophy was vexed, but Mercy was more than vexed. 
She was strangely upset by these sudden and brief 
tidings, and her trembling hands and rapidly flushing 
and paling cheeks seriously alarmed Sophy. 

Do not distress yourself, dear,” she said sooth- 
ingly. It will be all right at last.” 


IX COLONIAL DAYS. 


165 


No, no,” exclaimed Mercy ; it is not right to 
make a clandestine tryst, and on such a solemn occa- 
sion. Oh, Sophy, I cannot go.” 

^‘What shall I say to Nathanael?” said Sophy, 
with no little perplexity. 

True, I had forgotten. He knows well that no 
slight whim would keep me at home to-morrow. I 
must bear this a little longer,” replied Mercy, but 
even as she spoke, she grew so white and her eyes 
looked so weary with dark circles around them, that 
Sophy sprang up to get her never-failing sal volatile. 

“ It is nothing,” exclaimed Mercy almost peevishly; 
then she checked herself and tried to smile with her 
usual gentleness, as she put away her letter and said. 
Now, let us go right down-stairs ; they will wonder 
why we have closeted ourselves up here.” 

She took Sophy’s arm and the two went down- 
stairs to join Nathanael and Reuben and little Pen ; 
but Mercy had overtaxed herself. As she reached 
the lower landing she staggered and would have 
fallen if Sophy had not supported her. Sophy called 
loudly for help, and Nathanael sprang up the short 
flight to her assistance. 

What is the matter ? Did you twist your ankle?” 
he asked, as he almost carried Mercy down the 
remaining steps. 

^‘Oh, no, it was only giddiness! I never was so 


166 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


foolish before/^ said Mercy trying to look as usual. 
But, although the faintness had passed off, her head 
was swimming and she looked sadly worn and pale. 

Sophy made a fuss over her; Penelope was sent 
for a smelling-bottle, and Reuben for water; and 
Nathanael looked grave and anxious. 

Mercy persisted in saying that she was quite well, 
only tired, but she was really so much shaken, that 
she was thankful to find herself carefully escorted up- 
stairs again and put to bed by Sophy. There she was 
at least free to cry if she could not sleep after Sophy 
left her. 

But it was not long before the door opened gently 
and Sophy returned. 

“The question is settled,’^ she said; “Nathanael 
will not hear a word about your accompanying us 
to-morrow. He suggests that I should stay at home 
with you.’’ 

“Oh, no, no!” said poor Mercy. “That would 
really worry me into a fever. There is no reason at 
all why you should stay.” 

“We shall see. If you are able to go to the 
Folinsbees, it can be easily arranged,” replied Sophy. 
“ I could not consent to leave you all alone in the 
house. But I only came to tell you what Nathanael 
says, so that you may not worry your poor little head 
any more about going. Now try to sleep.” And she 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


167 


kissed Mercy’s tear-staiued cheek and quickly left the 
room. 

The morning found Mercy somewhat rested, but 
still pale and heavy-eyed, and thus it happened that 
little Penelope was mounted behind E-euben on Old 
Gray and Mercy was left instead to make the best of 
the companionship of old Goody Foliusbee. 

^‘T feared it might be the beginning of an illness^” 
said Nathanael to his wife as they rode along ; I am 
relieved that she does not seem worse this morning. 
Mercy is very like my mother, and I remember she 
sometimes had attacks of faintness and vertigo. I 
heard the doctor say once that it was not surprising 
after all she had gone througli. The shock of my 
father’s death w’as very great. I suppose with Mercy 
there is constitutional delicacy, and we must take 
good care that she is not overfatigued.’’ 

Sophy’s cheeks burned, and she heartily wished that 
she could tell all to her husband and ask his advice ; 
but the Beatouns never broke their word, and she had 
given her promise to Donny court. She consoled her- 
self by thinking that she would give Arthur a very 
serious lecture. 

Nathanael’s thoughts were too much occupied with 
the important step he was about to take to allow 
him to spend much time in conjecture about Mercy’s 
health; and his wife’s silence did not strike him as it 


168 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


might have done under other circumstances. She was 
turning over in her mind how she should get to speak 
with Donny court, and what she should say to him. 

All her anxious forethought was, however, useless ; 
for through all the long day not a glimpse of the gay 
captain greeted her eyes. The morning’s discourse, 
from the words, “Stand fast therefore in the liberty 
wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not en- 
tangled again with the yoke of bondage,” fell upon 
unheeding ears as far as Sophy was concerned, though 
to Nathanael it seemed that the text had been chosen 
for him alone, so exactly did it express his feelings 
and desires. 

The solemn baptismal service recalled her wander- 
ing thoughts. As they stood by the river side, the 
placid water gleaming in the sunlight, the foliage on 
the banks already showing traces of the approach of 
autumn, while only the twitter of the birds, the rustle 
of the leaves, and the faint lap of the ripple at her 
feet was audible in the hush that had fallen on the 
gathered throng, a strange feeling of awe stole over 
her. When the silence was broken by the powerful 
and thrilling voice of the minister as he engaged in 
prayer; and afterwards as, one after another, the can- 
didates were led down into the water and buried with 
Christ in baptism, this feeling of awe increased. 

The contrast between this solemn scene and the 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


169 


baptisms that she had witnessed before — when too 
often the persistent wailing of the infant member just 
received into the church awakened anything but awe- 
inspiring echoes in the consecrated building — deeply 
affected Sophy^s impulsive nature. At that moment 
she almost wished that she had asked to be baptized 
with her husband. It did not as yet strike her that 
anything more was necessary than that she should 
make the request. Of the total change in heart and 
life that had begun in her husband, she had but very 
dim perception ; and she certainly would have been 
utterly amazed if any one had told her that her 
present emotions were merely superficial sentiment 
with no real depth of religious feeling and thought. 

Her anxiety about Donnycourt had subsided. She 
felt a relieved satisfaction that he was not there, and 
indeed had nearly forgotten about him, but as they 
were sitting under the trees eating their lunch while 
waiting for the afternoon service to begin, Reuben 
remarked : 

“ Captain Donnycourt has not stayed for the second 
meeting.’^ 

Was he here?’’ asked Sophy quickly. 

‘‘ Yes,” replied Nathanael, I caught sight of him 
just as the sermon was beginning, but I missed him 
afterwards. Doubtless, he had come a good distance, 
and could not remain for the whole day.” 


170 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


The subject dropped, but Nathanael could not re- 
press an inclination to query what freak had brought 
the young man there ; since even the heartiest desire 
to be just and kind could not lead him to the convic- 
tion that Arthur Donnycourt cared simply for the 
services of the day. 

■ The afternoon sermon was from John xii. 46. ^‘I 

am come a light into the world, that whosoever be- 
lieveth on me should not abide in darkness,’’ and it 
formed a fitting close to this eventful day. On two at 
least it had made an impression that would never be 
effaced. To Nathanael and little Penelope it had been 
a day full of interest and peaceful happiness. 

The child was tired and slept through part of the 
afternoon service; but Sophy was not shocked, she 
only made a resting place on her knee for the little 
girl’s head. And Penelope, when she roused up for 
her long ride home in the evening, was turning over 
in her wise little brain, more of the preacher’s words 
than her mother could have recalled. 

She was a little timid as the darkness settled down, 
with only the starlight to guide them, and once or 
twice she clutched more tightly to Reuben’s belt. 

Never fear, Pen; I noted the road well as we 
came; for I knew we should not be back before night- 
fall,” he said cheerily. 

Reuben,” she said in grave and almost awed tones, 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


171 


you think any one could help loving Jesus? 
Think how terrible it must be to live always in dark- 
ness, away from him 

^^Do you love him, Penelope?’^ asked Reuben 
prompted partly by curiosity to hear her reply; for 
Pen was her father’s daughter, and often answered 
with a degree of thoughtful consideration that sounded 
oddly from such childish lips. 

^‘Yes,” she replied, I always loved the flowers 
and trees and the light and all the beautiful country; 
and how could I help loving Jesus when I was big 
enough to know that he made them ? ” 

‘^But he made the darkness too,” put in Reuben, 
trying to puzzle her childish philosophy. 

“ That is why there are stars in it,” said Penelope, 
looking up at the deep blue vault studded with its 
shining points of light. 

But sometimes there are no stars,” urged Reuben ; 
why is that ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” replied Penelope after a moment 
of thought; unless it is because we do not love him 
enough to deserve more light.” 

Oh, well, it is all figurative about light and dark- 
ness,” said Reuben cutting the matter short. “ See, 
Black Bess is getting ahead, and I believe Old Gray 
smells his supper.” 

Penelope’s words had a habit of sticking in his 


172 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


mind, just because she was so little, and could have 
no object or direct intention in uttering them. She 
said what she thought, not what she wanted him to 
think. Just now he preferred to change the subject. 

Soon they were canteriug up the home lane to the 
mounting-block, where they were greeted with a bright 
light and a comfortable smell of fried bacon issuing 
from the kitchen door. The door was wide open and 
they could see Mercy preparing a hot supper, while 
Elspeth Folinsbee, stepping briskly over the sanded 
floor, was setting pewter plates that shone like silver 
in the candle-light, on the table that gleamed wdiite 
as a bleached cloth with constant scrubbing. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


A TALK BETWEEN MEKCY AND SOPHY. 

rjIHE next day, when the work was done and the 
big kitchen tidy and clean as a new pin, 
while Penelope and Reuben were out in the woods 
and Nathanael busy at the farm work, Sophy and 
Mercy had settled themselves beside the broad low 
window seat in the afternoon sunlight. Though 
very skillful with her needle, Sophy had not yet 
learned the mysteries of spinning and weaving. Yet 
these were diligently practiced by the high-spirited 
daughters of liberty in those days when, to escape the 
odious taxation laid by Old England, in many a New 
England household the fleece from the sheep’s back 
was carded, spun, woven, cut out, and stitched at 
home. 

To Mercy this was every-day work, and since 
Nathanael’s arrival she had busily turned off hank 
after hank of woolen yarn for winter socks. Now 
she had pulled out the big wheel, and, while Sophy 
sat down to mend Penelope’s frock, she stood before 
it drawing out with dexterous turn and twist the even 

thread, for which she was noted even among the 

173 


174 IN CXDLONIAL DAYS. 

skilled housewives and maidens of Providence Plan- 
tations. 

‘^It was a rarely good sermon, that which Elder 
Smith preached yester morn,’’ she said at last as she 
stopped to take off a fresh hank. 

^^Did Nathanael tell you of it?” said Sophy. 
^^In truth, I was too occupied and bestead in ray 
mind to heed it as I suppose I ought.” 

Aye, Nathanael told me it was good, but I had 
a better rendering of it than he has yet given me, 
hours before I set eyes on any of you,” replied Mercy 
with a demure smile lurking about the corners of her 
mouth. Sophy had noted that she looked brighter 
and more like herself than she had done since her 
arrival, and therefore she had put off making any 
reference to Donnycourt until Mercy should ask. 
Now, however, a sudden suspicion flashed into her 
mind. 

^^Child,” she asked quickly, ‘‘ who told you of the 
sermon? Nay, turn hither and look me in the face. 
You have had speech with Arthur Donnycourt.” 

^^He told me, that a few more such sermons would 
make the colonies too hot for the King’s troops. He 
says, there is already so much talk about liberty we 
have no need of sermons on that subject to stir up 
men’s minds,” said Mercy, turning again to her 
wheel. She was evidently speaking rather to relieve 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


175 


her embarrassment, than with any very definite idea 
of vhat she was saying; but Sophy answered indig- 
nantly ; 

I cannot pretend to carry a two hours’ sermon in 
my head, but I will answer for it Mr. Smith was not 
preaching politics. He had as little call to say that 
as to come pestering you. Is that the way he keeps 
his promises to me? Nay, then I shall hold myself 
freed from mine own,” 

“Have I angered you, Sophy?” said Mercy, drop- 
ping the yarn with sudden anxiety. “He meant no 
harm. He said he merely stopped to rest his horse 
at Douglas Folinsbee’s thinking that he might there , 
pick up a chance word concerning my well being, 
since he had promised you not to come to the house 
while I was there. But Goody is deaf, and I was the 
only one who heard the sound of hoofs, and I went to 
the door.” 

“ Well?” put in Sophy, who began to perceive that 
matters had taken a completely new face since she 
had talked with Mercy on Saturday night; “what 
had my gallant cousin to say for himself, if I may be 
permitted to inquire?” 

“ You are vexed ; I hear it in your voice,” said 
Mercy coming to the chair and putting her arm about 
Sophy’s neck, with a pretty pleading anxiety that 
went far to soothe the little matron’s feeling of irri- 


176 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


tation at the boldness with which the quick-witted 
Dounycourt had attained his object, in spite of her. 

And if I am, is it not on your account, Mercy ? 
she asked. What care I for the comings and goings 
of Arthur Donuycourt, except as he may bring joy 
or sorrow to you ? ’’ 

Yes, and it is my fault that you care nothing about 
him,’^ exclaimed Mercy. ‘‘I have poisoned your 
mind with my foolish grumblings. If you could 
only have heard how he spoke of you and of your 
kindness to him, you would not judge him harshly.’’ 

“ He evidently pleaded his cause well with you,” 
remarked Sophy. I’ll warrant, you did not even 
scold him ; though his brief billet cost you a night’s 
rest and kept you from the preaching yesterday.” 

“ There is good in all things if we can but see 
aright,” replied Mercy ; he said himself that if I 
had been there, he would doubtless have paid little 
heed even to Elder Smith’s eloquent words ; but now, 
I trust that the earnest appeal to those who are yet in 
the bondage of sin has touched his heart more deeply 
perhaps than he is as yet aware of himself.” 

The glow on Mercy’s cheeks and the bright light 
ill her eyes came from something deeper or higher 
than Sophy could understand; though it caused her 
an uneasy feeling of wonder if Arthur Dounycourt 
had any real knowledge of the nature of this young 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


177 


girl, or even dreamed of the importance she would 
attach to his words. 

Does he mean to write openly to Nathanael or 
Dorothy ? ’’ she asked. 

He said he had received news from England 
concerning which he desired your counsel ; and that 
if you did not say him, Nay, he would ride out here 
again as soon as his duties would permit him to 
absent himself from Boston,’^ replied Mercy. 

‘^Then why did he ride off without even a word 
to me?^’ asked Sophy, still suspicious, and unwilling 
to be too completely mollified. 

fancy that he expected that you would come 
home shortly after the meeting. He seemed surprised 
and disconcerted when I told him that I did not 
expect you before nightfall, as you were to remain 
for the afternoon meeting,’’ said Mercy watching 
Sophy’s face anxiously, and endeavoring, as far as 
she truthfully could, to put her lover’s conduct in 
the best light. 

This was not hard to do, for simple-hearted Mercy 
was much given to reading other people’s motives 
by her own, and Arthur Donnycourt had far too 
much worldly wisdom to let her perceive that an 
afternoon spent with his betrothed in Elspeth Fol- 
insbee’s clean quiet kitchen where a deaf old crone 

nodding in her chintz-covered arm-chair was their 
M 


178 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


only audience, was to him an unexpectedly wonder- 
ful piece of good luck. When she told him how it 
happened that Penelope took her place behind 
Reuben, he had heedlessly remarked that nothing 
could have happened better. But her pained and 
puzzled expression warned him to beware of careless 
levity and compliment, and hurried him into that 
explanation of his meaning which she had already 
repeated to Sophy. To please her he had also 
related much of the substance of the morning’s ser- 
mon, and repeated it well too; for Donnycourt, with 
all his thoughtlessness, was a man of parts, and his 
quick intelligence enabled him readily to appreciate 
and to retain in mind any address displaying thought 
and eloquence. 

Nor was Mercy entirely deceived in her impression 
that his heart was touched. His admiration for her 
religion was sincere as far as it went. Sitting in the 
quiet kitchen, with the September sun streaming 
through the small panes of the broad low window 
and touching Mercy’s simple blue stulf gown, the 
shining braids of brown hair, and the earnest face, so 
pretty in its childlike thoughtfulness and play of liglit 
and shade, her simple faith seemed to belong to her 
as naturally as her quiet dress and peach-bloom com- 
plexion. All was a very pleasing change from the 
paint, the powder, the patches, the oftentimes forced 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


179 


smiles and cutting civilities that ruffled it in brocade, 
feathers, and jewels in the society where he was 
accustomed to dance away his spare moments. 

Sophy could understand all this, and when she was 
vexed with her cousin, she would question seriously 
whether this simplicity and earnestness would not 
pall upon him, when he had to conform himself to it 
in his wife. When, on the contrary, he re-instated 
himself in her good graces, she would then change 
her mind and sedately surmise that it would be the 
making of him, that his good qualities would be all 
brought out by his love for Mercy. 

Just now the information that he desired her coun- 
sel had greatly softened Sophy’s vexation. 

^^Did he give you any information concerning this 
news from England?” she asked after a pause, during 
which Mercy’s wheel resumed its whirring and her 
own needle went industriously in and out. 

^^No, he merely said that it concerned his father; 
and that you, who were the old gentleman’s favorite, 
could best tell him how he should reply to the letter 
that he had received,” said Mercy. 

‘^That is true,” remarked Sophy. Arthur always 
had an unfortunate faculty for irritating his father. 
He meant no harm, I dare say, but you know how 
men are. They can’t understand humoring each 
other. That will be your province, Mercy ; and, I 


180 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


doubt not that in a short time you will be as great a 
favorite with Uncle Donnycourt as I used to be.’’ 

It was the first time that reference had been made 
to Mercy’s future home, and she was startled. She 
had not thought that her marriage might place the 
ocean between herself and her own family. 

“Do you mean that Arthur would wish to take 
me to England?” she asked, with unsteady voice. 

“I suppose so. Why, would you not like to go?” 
asked Sophy carelessly, but mentally noting that 
Mercy for the first time in conversation with her 
had called Donnycourt by his Christian name. 

“I would go with him wherever his duty called 
him,” replied Mercy with the quiet dignity she 
showed at times when it was a simple question of 
right or wrong that she had to decide. “But he has 
told me that his elder brother will inherit the estates 
in England; and I hoped that he would remain here, 
at least for many years.” 

“ I fancy that you are the only one who would utter 
that wish concerning one of Gen. Gage’s officers,” said 
Sophy, with a light laugh; “they are not so well liked 
by the colonists at large.” 

“Oh, I wish he could leave the army and settle 
down to quiet steady life!” said Mercy. 

“What would you have him do?” asked Sophy. 

“I have not thought definitely,” replied Mercy, the 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


181 


quick color flushing again in her cheeks. ‘^But there 
are trades open, and we have friends who would help 
him to start in some business. Fm sure he would 
succeed in anything he undertakes, if he has time.’^ 

Mercy, you are an angel of simplicity and good- 
ness,’^ exclaimed Sophy, with all her natural impetu- 
osity. wish I were half as good as you.” 

That this young girl should be so ready to give up 
all thoughts of living at Donnycourt Hall, and that 
she should be entirely undazzled by the romance that 
usually attaches to the scarlet coat was a new revela- 
tion to Sophy. She felt more than ever the difference 
between the ways of thinking of her new relations 
and those of the relations whom she had left behind 
in England. Her impetuosity embarrassed Mercy, 
who flushed warmly as she answered : 

You must not say that, Sophy. I know that you 
do not mean to mock me ; but it sounds like it.” 

‘‘To mock you, sweetheart!” exclaimed Sophy. 
“ Indeed nothing could be farther from my thoughts. 
I only wondered at your indifference to position and 
wealth. You see, I cannot be so unworldly. I used 
to think that Nathanael ought to have been master of 
Eodmanhurst. And even now when I fancied that I 
had settled down quietly and contentedly to this farm 
life, I find that I don’t like the notion that he should 
cast in his fortunes with those who are looked down 


182 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


upon and even persecuted, as you know the Baptists 
are in Massachusetts. In Rhode Island and Provi- 
dence it is, of course, different,^’ she added quickly. 

do not think the Baptists are much liked any- 
where,’^ replied Mercy quietly. It was only by the 
greatest care and attention that Rhode Island — whieli 
was started, you know, by Baptists — obtained a charter 
placing the principal control of it in their hands. 
And in many ways we are made to feel that there is 
little sympathy with us even where there are no actual 
oppressions. But the Bible tells us to rejoice and be 
glad when men revile us and speak despitefully 
of us.” 

And do you feel that way?” asked Sophy. ^^Oh, 
Mercy, I wish that I were good enough to understand 
all that Nathanael feels and thinks. I cannot bear 
that we should have separate interests.” 

^‘They cannot be really separate when you both 
love and serve the same Master,” replied Mercy; ^^and 
I cannot help thinking, Sophy, that you too will learn 
to understand our Lord’s commands as Nathanael 
does; and to follow as he has followed them.” 

Sophy did not reply. An involuntary impulse had 
led her to speak so freely, and she was not sorry that 
the entrance of Reuben and Penelope put a stop to 
further conversation. 


CHAPTER Xy. 


ARTHUR DONNYCOURT RE-APPEARS. 

rriHE sharp winds of October were bringing down 
the nuts and the many-hued leaves from the 
trees, and rustling among the fodder, drying in the 
corn-shocks. Reuben had already started on his 
homeward journey, bearing with him a hearty invita- 
tion to repeat his visit and many kind messages from 
Mercy to his mother. 

Penelope’s longing gaze followed him as he can- 
tered away with his uncle, who intended to accom- 
pany him to Boston and then to return with Old 
Gray. When they were quite out of sight the little 
girl returned with rather a doleful face to the little 
stool beside the fireplace and the long seam on which 
her daily stint was marked by a pin. 

^^Poor little damsel, she is dull without her play- 
fellow,” whispered Mercy to Sophy, as she noticed 
the long-drawn sighs, and the many stops to measure 
with the little middle finger how much space still 
remained to be stitched before reaching the inexorable 
pin. ‘^Let her run out and gatlier nuts for awhile. 
The seam can wait till afternoon.” 


183 


184 


IX COLONIAL DAYS. 


I don’t like her to run about alone, when her 
father is not there to have an eye to her/’ answered 
Sophy doubtfully. 

But stay ; Elspeth Folinsbee promised to lend me 
her fluted caudle-moulds, and as I want to make bay- 
berry candles this week, you might walk down there 
with Penelope to get them. This wdnd will give you 
both rosy cheeks and blow away the megrims. I 
promised to send some ointment for Goody’s rheuma- 
tism, and you might take that with you. Come, 
child,” she called to Penelope ; fold up your seam, 
and get ready to go out with your aunt.” 

Penelope, nothing loath, folded away her work and 
the two soon appeared well wrapped in cloaks and 
hoods for their walk. 

‘^If Elspeth can come to-morrow to help us, I 
would get the candle making well over before 
Nathanael comes back,” said Sophy. 

I will ask her,” replied Mercy, and they went 
out, leaving Sophy to her regular morning occupa- 
tions. 

Her thoughts meanwhile were even busier than her 
hands. She was wondering whether Nathanael w’ould 
meet Arthur Donnycourt, and turning over again sur- 
mises as to the nature of the news from England, 
about which he intended to consult her. They had 
neither heard or seen anything of him since the 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


185 


memorable fifteenth of September, and she was 
growing impatient and vexed. A loud rap at the 
door roused her from her meditations, and, opening 
it hastily, the young captain himself stood before her. 

What means that expression ? Is it pleasure or 
dismay that has bereft you of speech, cousin mine?” 
he asked with an amused smile, as Sophy looked at 
him for a moment in silent surprise. 

Both or neither, as it best pleases you to imagine,” 
she retorted, recovering herself. “But come inside, 
and answer for yourself. What does your conscience 
tell you that you merit ? ” 

“ My conscience ! ” he exclaimed, as he stepped in- 
side and closed the door. “ Nay, if you attack me 
thus, even upon the door-step, I must cry you Mercy.” 

“Arthur, for shame ! I will have no giddy jesting 
on that subject,” cried Sophy indignantly. 

“Forgive me; you are right,” he said, with that 
sudden change from jest to serious earnestness which 
often went far to atone for his most reckless speeches, 
by leaving the impression that they were but a veneer 
to hide deeper feeling underneath. 

“ Where have you fastened your horse ? ” asked 
Sophy, mindful of her combined duties as host and 
hostess in the absence of Nathanael. 

“ He had cast a shoe, so I left him at the smithy 
and walked across lots,” replied Arthur. 


186 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


“ Then you did not meet Nathanael and Reuben ? ” 
said Sophy. “They left this morning for Boston. 
Reuben is on his way home and Nathanael has gone 
that far with him.’’ 

“ And Mercy, surely she has not gone ? ” exclaimed 
Arthur in sudden consternation. 

“ Oh, no, she must stay with us for some time yet,” 
replied Sophy; “she has only gone out for a walk 
with Penelope.” 

Arthur pondered for a few seconds and spread his 
hands to the blaze that leaped and crackled among the 
loo:3 on the shining andirons. 

“I am sorry that I did not know Mr. Rodman 
would be absent to-day,” he said at last; “but since I 
am so unfortunate as to miss him, you will not refuse 
to give me your advice, Sophy. I have come, as of old, 
to pour out to your sympathizing ear all my woes. In 
truth, this is the most provoking and disconcerting 
chain of circumstances that ever entangled an unlucky 
man.” 

“ And, as usual, all of your own entangling,” re- 
plied Sophy coolly. 

“ No, no, don’t condemn me unheard,” cried 
Arthur. “ I am not to blame for my brother’s 
misdeeds.” 

Sophy’s look of studied indifference changed im- 
mediately. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


187 


What is the matter she asked anxiously. Has 
William been getting into trouble again ? 

Yes, worse than before/^ replied Arthur gloomily. 

More gambling debts ; and what with racing and 
gambling, it seems to be a question whether he will 
kill himself or our father first. The poor old gentle- 
man writes in dreadfully low spirits and — w^ell, to tell 
the whole matter briefly he wants me to come home 
and be the good boy of the family.^’ 

To give up your commission asked Sophy, 
suppose so. But I will not do that; and — you 
have not heard all yet — he wants me to settle down 
and marry,” said Arthur with a short and very un- 
mirthful laugh. 

That is what you yourself want to do ; so that is 
no very hard command,” put in Sophy. But wdiat 
are you and your wife to live upon ? ” 

He promises me a good allowance ; and then you 
must understand I am to marry an heiress,” said 
Arthur. 

Oh!” 

Sophy’s tone expressed dismay; but she could not 
affect surprise. She expected this from her knowledge 
of the Donnycourt family. 

^^Now, isn’t it a miserable state of affairs?” said 
Arthur. ^‘The governor has nobody but himself to 
thank if William turns out a scamp; and to ask me 


188 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


to make good all his misdeeds is rather too much. 
Still it will not do to say that out bluntly. What 
shall I do, Sophy? I have been hoping that you 
could help me to find a way out of the scrape. You 
surely will not fail me/^ 

“Is this what you wanted my advice on three weeks 
ago?^^ asked Sophy, thus taking refuge from the re- 
lenting mood which usually overpowered her indigna- 
tion when he dropped all airs and came to her so like 
the bright, mischievous boy of former days. 

“I knew then of William’s scrapes. But this new 
idea of making me patch up the family fortunes has 
come in a letter which I received only a few days 
ago,” replied Arthur. 

As he spoke he drew out a letter and handed it 
to her. 

Sophy read in silence; it was a sad and touching 
appeal, but selfish throughout. Sophy, who knew 
the effect on her husband of being made to wait in 
idleness for the chance of an inheritance which did 
not come to him, at last shook her head in grave 
disapprobation. After some minutes of silence, she 
said: 

“He wants you so much; I don’t think you can 
refuse to go, Arthur.” 

“And marry that terrible hatchet- faced Miss 
Molyneux? I know whom he means, though he 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


189 


names no name. No, thank you/’ exclaimed Arthur 
starting to his feet and giving to a log that had fallen 
forward a kick which sent a shower of sparks up the 
wide black throat of the chimney. 

“ Of course, I did not mean that,” replied Sophy, 
her color rising and her eyes sparkling dangerously. 

If you even thought of such a thing, you would do 
well to keep away from me. But there,” she added 
hastily, as he turned towards her with an impassioned 
gesture, keep the protestations for Mercy’s ear ; of 
course, you don’t think of it ; and now listen to my 
plan. 

Put an end to all this secrecy and hasten your 
marriage. If you employ all your eloquence, I see 
no reason why you should not be able to return to 
England with your bride. That would settle the 
marriage question ; and for the rest you must use 
your own tact and good sense. And don’t forget to 
take your wife^s advice on difficult points.” 

She said the last words with a roguish twinkle in 
her eyes. All her anger had vanished. Her own 
advice sounded so well, that she was again her usual 
complacent and merry self. But Arthur sat moody 
and irresolute. 

A fine hornet’s nest you would have me plunge 
Mercy into ! ” he remarked. And how much do 
you suppose I should receive of the allowance that 


190 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


my father promises me ? I can answer for it that not 
a farthing would come to me/^ 

^‘What then?’’ exclaimed Sophy. “You are not 
penniless ; and you are not going to marry an ex- 
travagant young lady.” 

“ I have only what comes from my mother’s for- 
tune,” replied Arthur ; “ and there is the whole en- 
tailed property going to William. It is mere justice 
that my father should make me a reasonable allow- 
ance. I know well enough that Mercy would sac- 
rifice her comfort willingly if she imagined I wished 
it. But do you think I am the man to ask it of 
her?” 

He spoke with such real feeling, and the glovr of 
love and pride made his handsome face so attractive, 
that Sophy began to think he must be right, and that 
she had not taken sufficient thought before giving 
her advice. 

“I suppose I shall have to go to England and 
speak for myself,” he said, relapsing into his discon- 
tented tone. “I suppose, as you say, I ought to go. 
It is a miserable bore; but I don’t see any other 
way.” 

“Do you mean that you would go without having 
your engagement announced, and that you would not 
tell your father of it when you see him?” asked 
Sophy. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


191 


would do no good to make any talk just now. 
Yes, I think it would be wiser to leave things as 
they are until I can return with definite prospects to 
offer,’’ replied Arthur. Mr. Rodman and Mrs. 
Seaton would naturally expect that of me, and it 
will save many annoyances if nothing is said while 
matters of business are unsettled.” 

It will do nothing of the kind,” exclaimed 
Sophy sharply. “She is truthful as the day and 
hates concealment. If you go off thus you richly 
deserve to find your promised bride wedded to Mr. 
Jonathan Pursell when you return.” 

It was one of the ill-advised speeches into which 
Sophy’s impulsive nature sometimes hurried her. A 
dark flush rose to Arthur’s face, and the hand that 
rested on the high mantel-shelf clenched tightly. 
After a slight pause he said in a carefully controlled 
tone ; 

“We will not discuss that question. As to my 
father, I see you are right. I was undutiful enough 
to think only of the annoyance to myself ; but the 
poor old man has had much to bear from William. 
I ought to try to smooth matters ; and I can then 
announce my intended marriage in person, with 
proper filial respect. Thank you, Sophy, I knew 
you would set me straight. Yow I think I will 
stroll down the lane. I might meet Mercy returning.” 


192 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Sophy, who had expected an outburst, was puzzled 
aud rather alarmed, as people often are when they 
meet something they cannot understand. Before she 
could collect her thoughts to answer Arthur had taken 
his hat and was bowing over her hand with his 
usual courtly grace. He looked grave, but not in the 
least offended; and as he went out Sophy was left 
with the uncomfortable reflection that she had made 
some blunder, and that he had tried to pass it over. 
In the part of mentor that she had laid out for her- 
self either of these thoughts was very vexatious. 

After he was fairly gone she was angry with him ; 
then having no one there to take his defence, slie grew 
penitent and inclined to scold herself. She had begun 
to think less about money in this new country, where 
she had not the family at Kodmanhurst with the 
servants in livery, the grandly tiresome dinners, and 
all the stately routine always before her to compare 
with her own plain, quiet home; but she now began 
to think that perhaps Arthur was right, that he ought 
not to throw away the prospect of a comfortable 
allowance from his father, and that Mercy ought to 
understand this. So she settled down to her inter- 
rupted w’ork with a determination to be very good 
and kind and wise to everybody that warmed up 
again a pleasant glow of self-satisfaction in her heart. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


GOODY FOLINSBEE HELPS TO TANGLE THE SKEIN. 



HATEVER Sophy might have had in mind to 


say to Arthur was unavoidably deferred, for 
Mercy and Penelope returned without him. At first 
Sophy thought he had not seen Mercy, as his name 
was not mentioned by either of them. But in the 
evening, when Penelope had gone to bed and they 
were sitting quietly knitting by the light of the blazing 
fire, Mercy spoke of a short talk she had with him 
while Penelope and Grizzle Folinsbee were out gather- 
ing nuts. Xo one but Elspeth and Goody knew that 
he had been at the farm-house. This much Sophy 
learned, but Mercy seemed to have little else to tell. 
She said he had left his farewell to Sophy, as he was 
obliged to return to his post as soon as possible, but 
he would ride out again when he had more time at his 
disposal. Mercy did not appear annoyed or disturbed. 
On the contrary she was in the mood of quiet con- 
tentment that had followed upon her lover’s former 
visit, and Sophy deemed it best to press no inquiries 
at present. 

Elspeth came to assist on the following day. The 


194 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


work of making the tallow-dips, by repeatedly dip- 
ping the wick in the hot melted tallow and allowing 
it to harden between each dipping until it attained the 
proper size; and the more elaborate process of making 
the green bayberry candles, that were run in fluted 
moulds and intended for special use, — kept them all 
busy until nearly the time when Nathanael was ex- 
pected. 

The winter’s supply of artificial light was hanging 
up for a final hardening before being packed away in 
the store-room, and Elspeth had gone home when 
Sophy looking from the kitchen window exclaimed ; 

‘‘Here is Nathanael. But who is he bringing with 
him ?” 

Mercy came to peep over her shoulder at the 
rather heavily built figure dismounting from Old 
Gray. 

“It is Jonathan Pursell,” she said quickly; “I 
trust he brings no ill news from home.” 

She went forward to the door to greet him with an 
eagerness that called up a sudden light into the young 
man’s face. It faded as she addressed him with 
anxious inquiries about her sister, but not before 
Sophy had noticed it. He had come to Boston on 
business connected with the College, and having met 
Nathanael had received a pressing invitation to come 
home with him. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


195 


It was Mr. President’s desire that I should learn 
all that I could about the troubles of the Baptists, 
especially concerning this matter of certificates,” he 
said, as he drew near to the bright, cheerful fire. 

told him he could not have come at a better 
moment,” added IN’athanael coming in from the stable 
and joining the group round the wide fireplace. It 
is the very question that interests me deeply, now that 
we are on the point of forming a Baptist Church in 
Chelmsford. I would have paid taxes and rates with- 
out dispute so long as I belonged to no particular 
church, but if we mean to constitute our own church, 
we must be ready to support it ; and I am not rich 
enough to pay towards the support of two churches. 
Therefore I say by all means let us take out the 
certificates, if certificates they must have.” 

^^What are these certificates?” asked Sophy; I 
have heard them talked about, but I have never 
rightly understood what they may be.” 

Truly, Mrs. Rodman, that cannot be explained in 
two words,” replied Jonathan. ‘Mt puzzles some of 
our wisest heads to find out exactly what they would 
have us certify, and in what manner.” 

^^Come, come,” exclaimed Nathanael hastily, ^‘dis- 
cussion and explanation on an empty stomach are 
but sorry fare. Let us first discuss the contents of 
yonder pot, Sophy,” pointing to a big pot hanging 


196 IN COLONIAL DAYS. 

from the crane, which emitted a savory odor very 
grateful to the nostrils of hungry men, coming in 
from a long ride against a sharp wind. 

The bustle of dishing up the steaming hot supper 
put a stop to further talk on the subject. But Sophy 
felt too anxious, to dismiss the matter easily from 
her thoughts. She had paid but little attention to the 
talk about troubles that had fallen on Baptist families, 
who refused to pay taxes to support the State Church, 
so long as it did not concern her personally. But 
now she recalled with uncomfortable distinctness the 
conversation between her husband and Donnycourt 
concerning the Ash field Baptists, and incidents re- 
lated by Mr. Smith at various times when the talk 
had turned on the question of freedom in religious 
matters. 

When supper was over and the kitchen tidied up, 
she went up-stairs as usual to tuck in Penelope with 
a good-night kiss, a remnant of nursery habits that 
the little damsel of nine clung to as tenaciously as 
her mother did, notwithstanding occasional hints from 
other matrons that Penelope was too big a girl for 
such baby ways.” 

When she came down again she caught Jonathan's 
words evidently in answer to some remark from 
Nathanael. 

‘^The whole business is wrong from the foundation. 


IN CX)LONIAL DAYS. 


197 


No government has a right to exact money from the 
members of one church to support the minister of a 
different church. It strikes at the very root of 
liberty in religious faith. Our forefathers came to 
this new country seeking freedom from oppression in 
matters of religion; and now, scarce a century and a 
half later, oppressions are meted out by their children 
with equal rigor, and with less excuse, than in the 
old country.’’ 

Ah, there you go too far,” said Nathanael. In 
the old country, there was no loop-hole of escape for 
Dissenters; but here, by giving in the certificate which 
you despise, a man may prove that he belongs to a 
Baptist Church and thus be exempted from taxation 
to support any other church or minister. Of course, 
you of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations 
have taken the right and just course in giving abso- 
lute freedom ; but you need a short residence in Old 
England to make you tolerant of the shortcomings 
of your neighboring colonies.” 

“But what do these certificates avail?” replied 
Jonathan. “ The Assembly in November, 1757, made 
a law that Baptists, in order to be exempted from min- 
isterial taxation must have their names entered on a 
list, signed by three members and the minister of the 
church to which they belong, and this list must be ex- 
hibited annually on or before July twentieth to the 


198 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


assessors. How did that work in the case of Mr. 
John White, merchant of Haverhill 

I have heard Mr. Smith say, that he was hardly 
used ; but I never inquired strictly into the particu- 
lars,’^ replied Nathanael. He glanced uneasily to- 
wards the low chair in which Sophy had placed her- 
self; but Jonathan only heeded his words, for his 
own eyes were fixed on Mercy who was listening with 
eager interest. 

I can tell you, as shortly as may be, the facts of 
the case,” he said. The Baptists, although they 
had given the prescribed certificates, were taxed the 
same as the rest, when it was voted to build a new 
meeting-house for the First Parish in Haverhill, and 
a quantity of Mr. White’s goods were seized to pay 
the tax. This happened in 1766, five years ago last 
month. Mr. White sued the assessors in the County 
Court the following December, but on various pleas 
the matter was deferred till November, 1767, when at 
Salem after a fair hearing the jury gave the Baptists 
thirty pounds damages and costs. Complaint was at 
once made that the damages were too high. Mr. 
White wishing the matter settled agreed to remit 
twelve pounds and the court gave judgment that the 
rest should be paid. But the lawyers interfered and 
got it referred to another court, and at last in June 
two years ago, the case was turned against the Bap- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


199 


tists who were at length eighty pounds out of pocket 
by the whole affair.’^ 

‘^On what ground was the new verdict rendered?’’ 
asked Nathanael, forgetting in his strong love of jus- 
tice and natural interest in the case, the probable effect 
it would have on Sophy. 

It turned on the fact that the Certificate Law did 
not distinctly state whether such certificates were to be 
given only for baptized members, or for regular wor- 
shipers at the Baptist Meeting. The words of the 
Certificate in this case stated ^ they do frequently and 
usually attend public worship with us on the Lord’s 
Days.’ But the Court, though it owned the law 
meant to include steady worshipers, gave decision 
against them, because it was not clearly expressed; 
and they excused the overruling of the former de- 
cision and calling a new trial, by saying that it was 
a matter of great importance.” 

Nathanael sat silently gazing into the fire with con- 
tracted brow, and Jonathan continued : 

‘‘You have, doubtless, heard from Mr. Smith how 
they treated Widow Kimball, of Bradford, after she 
had given in a certificate and refused to pay a tax 
levied on her afterward. On a cold winter night, at 
nine or ten o’clock in the evening, she was taken by 
the collector and carried two miles on her way to jail. 
They stopped there for some hours at a tavern ; there 


200 


IN COIX)NIAL DAYS. 


she was advised by friends to pay the money. She 
did so and was then released to return in the middle 
of the night on foot through the snow and bitter cold 
to her three little children, whom she had left at 
home.’’ 

“Was it not while preaching at her house that Mr. 
Smith was once grievously insulted and tormented?” 
asked Mercy, who was listening with deep interest. 

“Aye,” replied Jonathan, “that was when her hus- 
band was yet alive. Amos Milliken, a sheriff, headed 
the mob of rioters, and all Solomon Kimball’s en- 
deavors to keep peace in his own house were of no 
avail. At last Mr. Smith began the service, unheed- 
ing them, and you can well imagine that his voice 
and dignity of manner could quell tumult. Some of 
the men who left lay in wait for him, and had he not 
been detained providentially, they would surely have 
done him an injury.” 

“I had not heard of this lying in wait, though I 
know his life has been endangered in other ways,” 
said Nathanael. “ I asked him about a stone that I 
saw one day in his room at Haverhill; and he told 
me it had been cast through his window when he lay 
in bed, one night. It was large and would certainly 
have killed him, had it struck his head. He told me 
he kept it as a remembrance of the mercy of God in 
preserving him. But surely,” he added, after a slight 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


201 


pause, there will be appeals made and these griev- 
ances must be righted.” 

‘^Efforts are being put forth,” said Jonathan. 
‘^Last month the Warren Association chose the Rev. 
John Davis of Delaware, who was ordained a year 
ago pastor of the Second Baptist Church in Boston, 
to act as their agent, and to endeavor, in concert with 
their agents in London, to obtain the establishment of 
religious liberty throughout the land. And the Rev. 
Isaac Backus has been requested to aid in the work.” 

“Meanwhile,” said Nathanael, “we can but adhere 
as strictly as possible to such means as are open to us 
to avoid persecution and troubles.” 

Though Sophy had not uttered a word she had 
drunk in every syllable. At times she trembled at 
the thought of the trials that might be in store for 
Nathanael. But again all her brave and ardent spirit 
was roused to resent the injustice and cruelty of which 
she heard. 

“I will join the Baptist Church too, and stand by 
my husband in everything,” she thought with proud 
defiance. 

She did not examine her own motives deeply 
enough to discover that in this resolve she was im- 
periously giving her support and sanction to a per- 
secuted people, rather than herself striving to follow 
in the footsteps of her despised and rejected Saviour. 


CHAPTER Xyil. 


JONATHAN PURSELL VISITS NATHANAEL. 



OXATHAN PURSELL remained with the Rod- 


^ mans only until the following day. He went on 
from there to Haverhill to visit Mr. Smith, and he 
was eager to return as soon as possible to his inter- 
rupted studies. His short visit, however, impressed 


Sophy with the great change that had been wrought 


iu him since she first met him. His devotion to 
Mercy was evidently as strong as ever, but it no longer 
showed itself in au awkward, embarrassed manner, 
and no one but a quick observer like Sophy, or one 
who had known them intimately before could have 
guessed his feelings towards her. 

Short, however, as his stay was and restrained as 
was his conduct, there was another pair of eyes whose 
owner fancied herself sharp enough to discover what 
had led him to Chelmsford. This was no other than 
old Goody Folinsbee. She had been mightily taken 
with the handsome young captain, and he was not 
slow to discover this. Her admiration for his laced 
coat and general air of distinction was the more 
pleasing, because in Boston his Majesty’s officers met 


202 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


203 


often with unmistakable tokens of hostility, and in 
the country villages the sturdy colonists, even where 
they were still staunch in their respect for the mother 
country, showed more admiration for Liberty Trees 
than for the most ruffling macaroni that ever donned 
the red coat and drew a rapier. 

To be gracious and condescending to his inferiors, 
when they recognized his condescension and their own 
inferiority, was as natural to Captain Dounycourt, as 
to be the devoted servant of a pretty woman. There- 
fore he found no difflculty in making Goody Folins- 
bee understand that he would prefer not to have his 
Sunday visit to Mistress Mercy talked about, and in 
gaining her over to further in any way his wishes. 

Goody’s eyes twinkled and she nodded till the wide 
frill of her cap flapped and quivered, and from that 
time she took a special interest in all that concerned 
Mercy. She would have been well pleased to be taken 
into confidence, and to have conveyed secret billets 
and made trysts; and she was rather puzzled and 
almost offended with Mercy’s grave and quiet dignity. 
Any allusion to the gallant young gentleman fell flat, 
when Mercy either replied as simply as if it had been 
a remark on Goody’s rheumatism, or else quietly held 
her peace. 

To Goody, who had seen post-chaises with steaming 
horses come galloping past her cottage on the Scottish 


204 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


border and had occasionally caught glimpses of the 
eager anxious faces of the brides-elect peeping from 
the carriage windows in terror lest the hasty and in- 
formal Scottish marriage ceremony should be inter- 
rupted before its close by the arrival of pursuing 
parent or guardian, this young maiden’s demeanor 
seemed very tame and cold. It lacked entirely the 
spice of romance and adventure that Goody had 
scented when the young captain cajoled her to secrecy 
concerning his visit, and pressed a coin as a reminder 
into her withered palm. 

Jonathan Pursell’s visit to the Rodmans came like 
a gleam of light upon her perplexity. Mercy had 
come down on an errand about the candle-makiug of 
the preceding day, and while she was sitting in 
Elspeth’s kitchen Jonathan entered. He had in- 
tended to walk to Haverhill, but Nathanael advised 
him to stop and ask if Douglas Folinsbee had a job 
of hauling in that direction and could give him a lift 
for a few miles. 

Mercy did not expect to see him again, and perhaps 
looked a trifle embarrassed. However it might be, 
Goody watched them narrowly, caught imperfectly 
his promise to tell her sister of her welfare, and by 
the time Jonathan had said a final good-bye and 
mounted beside Douglas on the wagon. Goody had 
settled in his own mind that he was an interloper, of 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


205 


whom the handsome captain would do well to beware. 
She would have liked nothing better than to convey 
to him a warning, but that was impossible. She 
could only crouch in her chimney-corner and watch 
such events as might take place within the four walls 
of the low- rafter kitchen that bounded her world. 

Unconscious Jonathan meanwhile jogged onward 
to do himself what she would fain have done. After 
his visit to Haverhill Jonathan returned to Boston 
and there he went to look up Reuben, who expected 
to tarry for a time with friends in the town. He met 
the lad one day walking in the street with a young 
gentleman who was no other than Captain Donny- 
court. 

The captain had returned from Chelmsford in a 
very bad humor with the world in general. He had 
gone thither fully determined to make his suit for- 
mally known to Nathanael. The unexpected absence 
of the latter caused a hitch in that plan, which gave 
him time to reconsider his resolve. He was half 
glad of the delay, half vexed that the trouble of de- 
ciding had not been definitely taken out of his hands. 
Behind all this vexation lurked a feeling of annoy- 
ance at the turn matters had taken in England. A 
year ago he would willingly have started home to 
hunt up a pretty heiress, and to play the part of the 
family prop and stay. Now he had no intention of 


206 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


giving up Mercy. But it was really annoying that 
this could not have happened sooner, or else not have 
happened at all. 

While at Chelmsford, this feeling^ had been dis- 
polled first by Sophy’s allusion to Jonathan Pursell, 
which aroused in him jealous auger; and afterwards 
by the sweet and gentle influence which Mercy always 
exercised over him. Besides a very real attachment 
to her, he had a perception that she drew out the good 
in his character, and it was certainly agreeable to be 
attracted to the right by those clear gray eyes, that 
dimpling mouth, and the sweet tones of a voice that 
had not a false note in its honest ring. 

After his return to Boston the old debates began 
again. Should he, according to Sophy’s advice, be 
married at once, and take his wife home with him, or 
should he go to England and leave matters here as 
they were? He was strongly inclined to the latter 
course; and with a dim, hazy idea that Reuben might 
prove useful as a correspondent, through whom during 
his absence he could have intercourse with Mercy 
unknown to her sister, he set to work and hunted 
him up. 

The sudden and unlooked-for appearance of Jona- 
than Pursell gave a new aspect to matters and his 
simple remark to Reuben that he had seen his uncles 
and aunts roused a host of suspicions in Arthur’s 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


207 


mind. Was this the meaning of Sophy’s hint? Why 
had she not told him plainly that she was expecting 
Jonathan ? He answered Pursell’s greeting with but 
scant courtesy, and Reuben himself was far from 
cordial. He had no desire to avail himself of Jona- 
than’s proposal that they should travel home together, 
for he w'as enjoying much his holiday and his inter- 
course with Donnycourt. He replied by requesting 
Jonathan to give his duty to his mother and to tell 
her that their friends pressed him so warmly to stay 
longer, that he could not well refuse. 

Jonathan walked a short distance with them, then 
noting that his company was not desired, he made 
an excuse and left them. Donnycourt, however, even 
then, did not resume his gay chat. 

Is he sent to tie a leading-string to you, and 
fetch you home?” he asked with a disagreeable sneer. 

don’t think he would care to try that,” replied 
Reuben, with a laugh that was meant to seem careless, 
while the hot boyish blood mounted to his forehead- 
Well, I must leave you here. I have some busi- 
ness to attend to at the barracks.” 

With this rather curt leave-taking, Arthur turned 
in the direction of the barracks, while Reuben pur- 
sued his walk, inwardly fuming at the notion that 
Pursell was sent to look after him, and also at the 
cool way in which Donnycourt had dropped him. 


208 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


I must settle it in some way,” said Donnycourt 
to himself as he passed on his way. I’m not going 
to be cut out of all the money and just play into 
William’s hands. But there’s no knowing what 
they will set on foot here, while I’m away. Even 
Sophy, I see, is not to be trusted. Come back 
and find Mercy married to that fellow ! Much 
obliged for the warning, fair cOusin. I’m not such a 
fool.” Thus musing angrily, he strode on at a rapid 
pace. Suddenly a thouglit struck him. He stopped, 
considered for a few moments, and then muttered: 
^‘The very thing. Rogers will do anything for me; 
I’ll explain to him that it is only a precaution. 
We’ll have all done fair and square, with bells and 
favors when I return.” His moody countenance 
cleared and he resumed his walk with eager alacrity. 

A few days later Sam appeared at Chelmsford 
with a letter from his master. It was for Sophy, 
and contained simply the information that her cousin 
had made all arrangements to sail for England the 
first week in November, and that he begged leave to 
present himself for a farewell visit on the fourth of 
November. There was also an enclosure for Mercy. 

Nathanael had gone out, and Mercy and Penelope 
were up- stairs, so that Sophy had time to read the 
letter through and consider what she should answer. 
In her vexation and annoyance, she was half inclined 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


209 


to throw the whole package in the fire, to send no 
answer, and to say nothing about it to any one. She 
heartily wished that this negro, whom she had never 
before seen, had happened to meet her husband and 
to hand the missive to him. It did not occur to her 
that Arthur had giv^en Sam careful instructions not 
to go near the house until he knew that Rodman was 
out. 

She was roused from her perplexed meditations 
by Mercy’s voice calling to her from the top of the 
stairs. She thrust the letter in the pocket that hung 
at her girdle, and went up-stairs with an unconcerned 
countenance. 

What is it?” the girl asked in low tones not to 
be overheard by Penelope in the bedroom, but with 
sharp anxiety evident in her pale cheeks and eager 
eyes. What has happened to Arthur? Sophy, you 
are hiding something from me.” 

There was nothing to be done but to hand her the 
letter. Mercy read it through eagerly, drew a sigh of 
relief and then looked at Sophy, who stood half 
abashed and wholly angry, playing with her keys. 

^^It is a simple thing that he asks,” said Mercy. 

I can surely with all propriety say ‘ yes ’ to his re- 
quest.” 

‘‘You may call it a simple thing; I call it a very 

dishonorable proceeding. Why does he not write to 
o 


210 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


my husband or to your sister? I am tired of secret 
missions and underhand appointments. I am heartily 
ashamed of him. I did not think a cousin of mine 
would have acted so dishonorably.” 

She spoke hotly and without in the least calculating 
the effect of her words. But Mercy, the timid, shrink- 
ing maiden now stood straight and tall before her, her 
cheeks burning, her grey eyes big and dark with in- 
dignant resolution. 

^^You must not say that to me, Sophy,” she said 
with proud self-control, that alarmed the excited little 
matron more than a tempest of anger, or a burst of 
passionate tears. am very sorry if I have in- 

fluenced him for evil, by not being open at the first ; 
but now, I shall not deny his request to see me again 
before he sails.” 

She went down-stairs to a secretary that stood in the 
front room and wrote a few lines. 

Sophy followed her and stood watching her till she 
began to fold the sheet, then she took up the pen that 
Mercy had laid down, saying gently : 

^‘Forgive me, sweetheart; I did not mean to anger 
you. Shall I write a line to bid Inm come?” 

Mercy’s anger was quickly turned away by a soft 
word, but she was still sore and hurt. Her lips began 
to tremble and she could only trust herself to answer: 

“If you will.” 


IN COLONIAL. DAYS. 


211 


That was enough. Sophy wrote a few lines, en- 
closed Mercy’s billet, directed and sealed the letter, 
and gave it to Sam. 

After this, the two avoided the mention of Arthur’s 
name. Mercy could not dismiss from her mind an 
uncomfortable suspicion that Sophy had meant to act 
without her knowledge in this matter, and that it was 
owing to the accident that she had chanced to see and 
to recognize Sam coming up the lane, that she had 
received her lover’s billet in time to reply to it ; while 
Sophy finding she had set in motion forces more diffi- 
cult to control than she had imagined, now heartily 
longed to be free of the whole entanglement. 

This feeling of annoyance raised a slight barrier 
between Mercy and herself, and made her enter with 
even more interest than usual into the subject which 
now greatly occupied her husband’s thoughts, — the 
organization of the new church. It was her nature 
to desire to feel in perfect accord with those she loved, 
and this often led her into trouble ; because, instead 
of quietly avoiding a subject on which she found 
opinions jarred, she would eagerly attempt to bring 
about harmony and thus make matters worse. Now, 
as she was afraid to enter into any explanation with 
Mercy, she threw herself with all her impulsive ardor 
into the subject that interested Nathanael. 

Her husband was both pleased and surprised, and 


212 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


he began to think that he had done wrong in trying 
to keep from her all the disadvantages to which he 
might be subjected owing to his connection with the 
Baptists. Instead of tearful repining, or anxious 
attempts to dissuade him from what he felt to be the 
right course, she seemed to feel fewer forebodings than 
he had himself. 

^‘Wliat did they all come over here for?^’ she 
asked indignantly, as they sat before the glowing fire 
a few evenings after the arrival of Arthur’s letter. 

Wasn’t it because they wanted to do as they pleased, 
and not to conform to the Church of England? Then 
what right have they to try to keep other people from 
doing as they please? I heard what Mr. Pursell was 
saying to you, and I have no patience with such mean- 
ness. I suppose that Douglas and Elspetli Folinsbee 
and the Purdys would like to set themselves up as 
knowing more than you, the grandson of Sir Peter 
Hodman, of Rodmanhurst.” 

Mercy opened her eyes in amazement and Nathanael 
smiled indulgently. 

My grandfather never taught me much on that 
matter,” he replied. 

I don’t care what Sir Peter taught you ; you are a 
better judge than the Presbyterians, or Congregation- 
alists, or whatever they choose to call their State 
Church,” said Sophy with a willful nod that set the 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


213 


ribbons fluttering in the dainty cap that covered her 
pile of dark curls. 

better judge as to my own actions/^ put in 
Nathanael. If other men think that they find dif- 
ferent commands in the Scriptures, let them act as 
their consciences dictate. For myself, after reading 
carefully, my conscience bids me follow and try to 
teach the principles of the Baptists. I have neither 
the right, nor the desire to force othem to agree with 
me. The Baptists do not claim freedom for them- 
selves alone. There are those who would have us be- 
lieve that they hold a monopoly of that article; but 
we are not of that sort.’^ 

“Of course not,’^ cried Sophy; “you are just and 
honorable, but I know well that you are fit to teach 
those people who take such airs upon themselves. If 
you think the Baptists are right, that is enough for 
me, and I mean to join them myself.’^ 

She was a little frightened as she heard the sound 
of her own words; but they were spoken, and the 
Beatouns always held to their word, so she looked up 
bravely with no sign of flinching in the tightly closed 
lips and indignant eyes. Mercy was too much puzzled 
to speak, and even Nathanael was completely taken by 
surprise. The first flush of pleasure was followed by 
a painful feeling that his wife had very little idea of 
what she was talking about. 


214 


IX COLOXIAI^ DAYS. 


^^^N^othing could give me greater pleasure, dear 
Sophy he said at last ; but in this matter I can- 
not be conscience even for my own wife. It is a 
subject for careful thought and earnest prayer.’^ 

He spoke very gently and tenderly, but Sophy felt 
sadly chilled. There was silence for a few moments; 
then she rose and began to roll up her knitting, pre- 
paratory to going up-stairs to give Penelope her good- 
night kiss. 

Mercy watching her thought the fingers trembled, 
and that there were tears under the dark eyelashes. 
Her impulse was to follow Sophy up-stairs, and to 
speak loving words that might be helpful to her. 
But something made it hard for her to choose the 
right words to speak, and she let the opportunity 
pass, saying to herself that perhaps the flickering 
firelight had deceived her, and that Sophy would 
repel any advice from her. 

She took herself sorely to task afterwards and 
wept bitterly that night in her own room, because 
Satan had cast his shackles about her and had caused 
her to hold her peace from speaking good words ; but 
it is from the fullness of the heart that the tongue 
speaketh, and just then Mercy’s heart was filled 
entirely with the vision of a handsome face whose 
owner would shortly come to bid her farewell, before 
he sailed for the Old World. 


CHAPTER XYIIT. 


ARTHUR DONNYCOURT’s DEPARTURE. 

T^ROM that time Sophy began to go about listlessly, 
and to find it hard work to keep from fretful 
words at slight annoyances. She brooded in secret 
over the approaching visit of Donnycourt. For a 
moment she had thought that she would certainly 
manage that Nathanael should be at home when 
Donnycourt came ; but it was only for a moment. 
Then she remembered that Nathanael would almost 
certainly be away at that time, for he had made an 
arrangement with a neiglibor, who lived at a con- 
siderable distance, to take him over a load of corn on 
the first Monday in November to exchange for pork ; 
and, unless the weather became too mild for Good- 
man Wilson to kill his pigs, Nathanael would be ab- 
sent that day and night ; for, as he could not return 
till long after nightfall, he had been cordially pressed 
to take a bed there. 

Instead of milder weather, the winds grew colder 
and sharper. Some of the last of the bright autumn 
leaves, now grown brown and dry, fluttered down 
with each gust, to add to the thick carpet that lay in 

215 


216 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


rustling heaps about the roots of the trees now spread- 
ing their branches black and bare against the wintry 
sky. 

Nathanael noticed the change in his wife, and it 
troubled him sorely ; but she did not respond to any 
attempts on his part to renew the subject that she had 
so strangely and unexpectedly broached. He could 
only wait, patiently bearing with her unusual moods 
and trusting that the Holy Spirit was working in her 
heart. 

On Monday morning her temper was more uneven 
that ever before ; she even spoke in irritable tones to 
her husband when he expressed anxiety about her 
pale cheeks and heavy eyes. He delayed his de- 
parture until nearly noon, and then drove away feel- 
ing sadly disturbed. 

As his road led him past Douglas Folinsbee’s 
house, he stopped for a moment to speak with Douglas 
about the wagon, which he had hired from him. A 
strange horse was tied to the fence; and as he entered 
the low porch that sheltered the door he caught a 
glimpse of a slightly built man with clean-shaven 
face, who looked out of the window as if expecting 
some one and then drew back. Douglas was not at 
home, so Nathanael did not go in; and mounting 
again to his seat the wagon was soon creaking and 
lumbering over the rough and deeply rutted roads. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


217 


Meanwhile in the kitchen at home Sophy was 
busied feverishly and nervously clearing away the 
dishes after the early dinner, while little Penelope 
was at her favorite employment polishing the pewter 
plates till they shone like silver, and she could see 
the reflection of her own, sweet, quiet face in them. 
Mercy’s voice was heard at the top of the stairs call- 
ing to Sophy, who reluctantly laid down the cloth 
and went up-stairs to speak to her. 

‘‘You will go with me, Sophy,” said Mercy 
anxiously. 

“Not I,” replied Sophy irritably, “if he wishes to 
come to the house fair and open, let him come. Pll 
go to no neighbor’s house to meet him.” 

“It was my fault, Sophy,” pleaded Mercy; “you 
angered me by the way you spoke of him, and I wrote 
to him not to come here, but that if he would stop at 
the Folinsbee house, I often went there to inquire for 
Goody.” 

“You wrote that, yet you never said a word to me 
of it ! ” exclaimed Sophy. “ And you even asked me 
to write to give him leave to come hither!” 

“That did I not,” replied Mercy, her color rising, 
and her eyes beginning to expand and darken, as they 
were wont to do on rare occasions when she was 
thoroughly roused. “You had insulted him by your 
words, and when you followed me and offered to 


218 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


write, my letter was already folded and I merely told 
you to do as you would.’^ 

A crash in the kitchen made them both start and 
Sophy with an exclamation of annoyance ran hastily 
down the stairs. Penelope was picking up with 
shamefaced confusion a pewter plate that had slipped 
from her little fingers, as she was zealously polishing 
its surface. No harm was done and having scolded 
the child for her carelessness, Sophy stood for a 
moment, half inclined to tell Mercy that she would 
accompany her. 

The sound of footsteps overhead decided her waver- 
ing mind. 

She has gone back to her room,’^ she thought ; 

no doubt she thinks the matter settled and will stay 
quietly at home and cry over it. But a few tears now 
are better than a sore heart by and by, and truly the 
whole aifair were better broken otf.’^ 

It did occur to her that Mercy, w’hen roused, 
showed more disposition to act than to weep, but she 
put aside the thought uneasily, assuring herself that 
if Mercy would do such an unmaidenly thing as to go 
to meet her lover at a neighbor’s house, she at least 
would not be mixed up with such conduct. 

The footsteps ceased overhead and there was com- 
plete silence, but just as the work was finished and 
Sophy was taking the fine birch broom to sweep into 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


219 


graceful curves the freshly strewn sand on the floor^ 
she heard a light foot descending the stairs and Mercy 
entered the kitchen, wrapped in her grey cloak, her 
face pale but determined, under the wide brimmed 
hat that was tied securely over her ears with a long 
veil. 

am going down to Elspeth Folinsbee^s, have 
you any message?’^ she said quietly, mindful of 
appearances before the quick eyes and ears of little 
Pen. 

^Mf I had a message it would need to be an im- 
portant one, for me to let you go out with it on such 
a raw blustering afternoon,^^ retorted Sophy, too much 
vexed to be careful even in the presence of the cliild. 

‘‘ I shall not be gone long,’^ replied Mercy, slip- 
ping outside and quickly shutting the door to avoid 
farther words. 

The cold gust of air that filled the kitchen in that 
short moment made Sophy shiver. She even put 
down her broom and' went to stretch her hands to 
the blaze, and sharp-eyed Penelope noticed that they 
trembled. When she turned away again to her 
sweeping, her cheeks were crimson and her eyes big 
and bright; but she finished her work and sat down 
with her work-basket, and then calling Penelope to 
her side, began to instruct her in the art of stitching 
a wristband for a shirt. Her head ached and the 


220 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


threads she was trying to draw danced in confusion 
before her eyes. A foreboding of evil seemed to 
press upon her, until she almost felt that it would be 
a relief to scream aloud, or to do something strange 
and startling to relieve her pent-up feelings. If 
Elspeth had seen her in her present mood she would 
have said that some one had cast an evil eye on her. 
And even Penelope was alarmed. 

Mother, why do you shiver when your hands are ^ 
burning hot?^^ she asked as her hand happened to 
touch her mother’s in taking her work. 

^^’Tis nothing, child,” answered Sophy impatiently. 

There; take up two threads and skip three. Don’t 
be so careless. You have put in your needle quite 
wrong.” 

Penelope’s eyes opened wide with amazement, for 
her needle was placed exactly as she had been bidden. 
Sophy hastily snatched the work from her hands to 
alter it, but everything swam before her eyes and 
stitching w^as an impossibility. Bewildered she 
dropped the wTistband in her lap and leaned her 
head on the table before her. Penelope anxiously 
asked what ailed her, and tried with little endear- 
ments to attract her attention, but her mother fell to 
weeping violently and then in her efforts to control 
her tears broke out into hysterical laughter. 

Terrified Penelope began to think of a fast that 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


221 


she had been told was kept a year ago for the be- 
witched sou of Job Purdy, and she wondered desper- 
ately if it would do any good to bring the Prayer- 
Book to her mother. Her first impulse was to run 
for her Aunt Mercy, but she dared not leave her 
mother alone. 

The sight of the child^s white, scared face steadied 
Sophy’s nerves for a moment and she said in quick 
gasps : 

Don’t be frightened, my little maid. I’ll go up- 
stairs and lie down for awhile till Aunt Mercy comes 
back.” 

May I run to fetch her ? ” asked Penelope. I’ll 
go very fast.” 

‘Mt is too far to send you. It is growing late,” 
said her mother feebly. 

^Mt is not near dusk,” replied Penelope, '^and in- 
deed it is not far. Please let me go.” 

Sophy felt herself that both for body and mind it 
would be a great relief to see Mercy agafn by her side 
and she nodded a silent assent. She then sank down 
on the wooden settle too weak and chilly to go up- 
stairs. Penelope brought a pillow and shawl to make 
her mother as comfortable as she could. Then don- 
ning in a trice her hood and pelisse she started ’off 
as fast as her feet could carry her towards Douglas 
Folinsbee’s. It was hard work running against the 


222 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


wind and when she reached the door of Elspeth^s 
tidy kitchen she was almost breathless. 

To her great surprise old Goody, who generally 
sheltered her rheumatic bones in the warmest chim- 
ney nook, opened the door to her and asked sharply, 
what she wanted. 

Mother is not like herself. I don’t know what is 
wrong. We want Aunt Mercy,” gasped the breath- 
less child. 

Well, well, sit down and take breath,” said Goody; 
but at the sound of Penelope’s voice, Mercy herself 
came in hastily from the front room. 

‘^What is it. Pen? tell me, dear,” she exclaimed 
excitedly. 

^‘Mother seems so strange. She shivers and her 
hands burn, and she laughs and cries,” said poor Pen, 
herself almost crying. *^Do come fast. Aunt Mercy.” 

‘^That’s no put-on ailment; it sounds like fever,” 
muttered Goody, then added aloud: ^^Gang awa’ in 
and get your cloak and hat, lassie. The bairn maun 
get her breath.” 

Mercy disappeared into the front room, and at the 
same moment a small, clean-shaven man came out. 
Though Penelope could hardly speak, she had no 
difficulty in hearing, and she distinctly caught the 
sound of a man’s voice and her Aunt Mercy replying 
in low, agitated tones. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


223 


‘^Whisht, whisht! what fules they be cried 
Goody, exchanging quick glances with the gentle- 
man, as she hobbled towards the door with more 
noise than necessary. 

As she opened it Mercy came out, and though the 
broad brim of her hat was well over her face and she 
was tying on her veil, Penelope noticed that she 
looked as if she had been weeping. 

Come, child,” she said, “ be quick ; ” and she went 
towards the door holding out her hand to Penelope. 
The gentleman bowed silently as she passed, but as 
she opened the door Goody came bustling out crying ; 

‘‘Hoot, hoot, lassie, are ye fey? The lines, tak 
the lines wi’ ye;” and she thrust a slip of paper 
into Mercy ^s hand. 

The blood rushed to Mercy’s pale face, but she took 
the paper, and with a hasty good-bye drew Penelope 
out into the blustering November wind. 

She regained her composure as they walked rapidly 
homeward, and Penelope felt more at ease now that 
she really had her Aunt Mercy with her, she even re- 
covered herself enough to ask with childlike curiosity : 

“ Aunt Mercy, is Cousin Donnycourt coming up to 
the house?” 

“Nonsense, child. What do you mean?” asked 
Mercy sharply. 

“ I hope he is not,” replied Penelope simply ; “ for 


224 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


he always brings trouble to mother, and father does 
not like him.’’ 

Then you had better not talk about him to them,” 
said Mercy, trying to speak indifferently, though her 
voice trembled slightly. If your mother has fever, 
she must be kept very quiet and composed.” 

‘^Very well,” replied Penelope and was silent till 
they reached the house door. 

A glance showed Mercy that Sophy was seriously 
ailing. The first care was to get her to bed and the 
next to fetch the bag of herbs, all sorted and labeled 
for cases of sickness. Mercy had had much expe- 
rience in nursing and doctoring, and though she 
regretted that Nathanael was aw^ay she did not feel 
very anxious. 

As evening closed in and the simple remedies she 
had prepared did not produce the usual effect her 
anxiety increased, and she wished she had asked 
Elspeth to come up to help her. She gave Penelope 
her supper, and as the fever had increased and the 
stupor, which Mercy had hoped would turn into re- 
freshing sleep, was passing off and Sophy was rousing 
into excited, half-wandering snatches of talk, Mercy 
thought it best to send the child to bed without allow- 
ing her again to go into her mother’s room. 

She then sat by Sophy’s bedside, until noticing that 
she seemed inclined to doze, but was roused to talk 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


225 


by having a listener by her side she slipped down- 
stairs to cover the kitchen fire and close up the house 
for the night. 

Her surprise and her relief were very great as the 
kitchen door opened and Nathanael himself walked 
in. The cheery greeting on his lips was checked as 
he saw Mercy alone. 

Where is Sophy he asked quickly. 

Indeed, brother, I like not the turn she has taken. 
I got her to bed, but the fever does not abate,’^ replied 
Mercy. 

Without staying for more words Nathanael mounted 
the narrow stairs, two steps at a time. The sight 
of his wife’s flushed face and glittering eyes greatly 
alarmed him. She knew him, but began to talk so 
eagerly and incoherently that he had great difficulty 
in soothing her. 

When she became more tranquil he left the room, 
and hastened down-stairs; then beckoning to Mercy, 
he said : 

This is something serious, we must have advice as 
quickly as possible. Do you watch her closely while 
I try to get a doctor.” 

He hastened to the stable and without waiting to 
saddle Black Bess he sprang on her back and making 
a bridle of the halter rode rapidly away towards 

Douglas Folinsbee’s, to learn from him where the 
P 


226 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


nearest doctor could be found. Douglas himself came 
to the door at the sound of hoofs, and Nathanael 
shouted his inquiry through the whistling of the 
wind. 

’ Tis a lang gait/^ replied Douglas, to Doctor 
Avery’s, but bide a wee ; there’s a sort o’ doctor chap 
within doors at the very moment. He’s frae Boston 
and is stayed wi’ a horse that cast a shoe. Wull ye 
hae him up to the house to see the mistress? Ye’ll 
no find Doctor Avery the night I’m thinking.” 

‘‘Who is he?” asked Nathanael chafed at the 
delay, and rendered more anxious as he perceived the 
chance of getting a doctor to be small. 

“ His name’s Rogers. He’s a bit o’ a doctor, and a 
bit o’ a parson, and a bit o’ a soldier, as near as I can 
come at it,” replied Douglas. “Anyhow he’s a douse 
body I’m thinking ; and it ’ull do nae harm to ask 
his opinion till the morn’s morn, wdien ye can get 
Doctor Avery by gude daylight.” 

Without more palaver Douglas stepped back into 
the kitchen and soon came out and hastened to the 
stable to fetch out one of his horses, while a figure 
appeared in the doorway. By the glow of candle 
and firelight Nathanael recognized the same face that 
he had seen at the window at noon. 

The stranger’s tones and manners were kindly 
and courteous as he offered to do anything in his 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


227 


power to serve him. There was really no choice, and 
Nathanael could only reply with thanks and apologies 
and in a few minutes they were cantering up the lane 
again. 

Mercy’s face flushed almost as deep a crimson 
as the fever-stricken cheeks of her patient, when 
Nathanael came in and presented to her Mr. Rogers; 
but in a few minutes she had forgotten all embarrass- 
ment in a new terror. For the stranger, after a short 
but careful examination of the patient, said in low 
tones to Nathanael : 

^‘You cannot take too much precaution, sir. 
Unless I am greatly mistaken your wife is sicken- 
ing with the small-pox.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


REUBEN SEATON DISAPPEARS. 

Il/TR. ROGERS, whatever might be his profession, 
was correct in his opinion of Sophy’s illness. 
Nathanael insisted that he must stay the night, and 
he could not have gone back to the Folinsbees from 
the bedside of a small-pox patient. 

You see I have no need to dread it for myself,” 
he said, as he touched one or two faint scars on his 
own face. I have been inoculated and I had a 
pretty bad attack then; but you, sir, have you been 
inoculated, or any of your family ? ” 

‘^No,” replied Nathanael, in a tone of dull despair, 
‘^perhaps Mercy — ” but she too shook her head. 

Do not be down-hearted,” said Mr. Rogers. If 
you can get some one who is skillful and proof 
against the disease to nurse your wife, I have no 
doubt she will pull through. I have seen very 
serious cases recover all right and not very bad marks 
left either. But you need a good nurse.” 

^‘I have been counted not ill as a nurse,” replied 
Mercy quietly, ^^and you may be sure, brother, that I 
will do my best for Sophy.” 

228 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 229 

“Youl^^ exclaimed Mr. Rogers, '^wliafc — ” but lie 
was checked by a quiet motion from Mercy. 

have no fear. And if I had, yon see, I have 
already been attending my sister-in-law,’^ she said. 

I could not leave her to any one else. Of course, 
if Dorothy were here she could do much better than 
I can ; but I shall do my best. Nathanael, keep up 
good heart.” 

As she spoke she took up a draught that Mr. 
Rogers' had been preparing for the patient, and went 
back into her room. 

As she shut the door gently behind her and went 
to the bedside, it struck her that she was shutting out 
the world. Penelope must be kept away from her, 
and any direct intercourse by letter with Dorothy, 
with Reuben, with Donnycourt must be given up. 

He told me to write to him before he sails, but I 
cannot do it now. What will he think ? ” Her brow 
contracted anxiously, but soon the frown relaxed and 
a peacefully contented expression shone from her eyes. 

I am glad now that I did not say him, ‘ Nay.’ I 
could not have explained, and he might have gone off 
angry. Yes, it is better as it is,” she whispered to 
herself. I was sorry at first, but the Lord is merci- 
ful, and he will make the pathway plain before me.” 

Thus comforting herself, Mercy lulled to rest her 
sensitive conscience, and began the long and arduous 


^30 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


task of nursing that lay before her. It was well for 
her peace of mind that she could not at that moment 
look into the familiar kitchen at the old Fythe Farm, 
where Dorothy sat with strained and anxious face 
listening to Mr. John Brown who, in his quick, com- 
manding tones, was saying: 

Do not distress yourself, madam. I am going on 
to Boston this week, and I will look up the boy and 
bring him home. Be sure no harm has befallen him. 
He is, no doubt, enjoying himself and needs a touch 
of discipline to make him remember his duty.’^ 

Mr. John Brown was a man of such remarkable 
energy that anything which he undertook was sure to 
be accomplished if it lay within the bounds of possi- 
bility ; and Dorothy’s distress was really caused almost 
as much by the thought that Reuben had disregarded 
her wishes and desires, by remaining so long with 
friends in Boston, as by actual fear that any mishap 
might have befallen the lad. 

The shock was terrible ito her when a week later 
Mrs. Nicholas Brown brought her the tidings, that 
Reuben had left Boston and that for the last ten days 
no one knew what had become of him. 

He was staying last with Mr. Martin,” said Mrs. 
Brown, ^^and Mrs. John Brown writes to my husband 
that they heard that Reuben went about much with a 
young English officer. Mr. Martin has little cause 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


231 


to be much pleased with any intercourse with the 
English officers. The troubles of the March riots 
are too fresh in his mind. But he understood that 
this young man was some kin to Reuben or to your 
family, and therefore he did not take it amiss. When 
the lad left their house, last Monday week, he gave it 
out that he was going with this Captain Donnycourt 
for a short jaunt, and then would travel straight 
homewards.’^ 

^^And where is this Captain Donnycourt,’^ asked 
Dorothy with stern voice and kindling eyes. 
thank God that he is no kin of mine. You remem- 
ber him, Mrs. Brown. A gay ne’er-do-well, lounging 
about the town for no good or useful ends that I 
could ever learn eighteen months or more ago. He 
claimed to be some kin to my brother’s wife, but 
he is none of ours, and I misliked the fellow from 
the first hour he darkened this door. Where is he, 
that I may go and demand my son of him?- I will 
weary him with my importunities, as the widow 
wearied the unjust judge. Could he find none to 
entrap into his evil ways but the only son of a 
widow?” 

It was rarely that the reserved and quiet Dorothy 
had been heard to pour forth such a torrent of hot 
and angry words; but Mrs. Brown’s answer cut short 
both her words and her wrath. 


232 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


‘^The young captain sailed for England last week/’ 

‘^For England!” repeated Dorothy, as she sank 
back into the chair, from which in her excitement she 
had risen. ^‘What could he want to lure my boy to 
England for ? ” And she looked in despairing won- 
der at the visitor. 

Mr. Brown writes that he made strict inquiry, 
and he finds that Reuben did not sail with Captain 
Donnycourt,” said Mrs. Brown. He is now trying 
by every means to get track of the lad in Boston, or 
the neighborhood.. And though thus far it has been 
without success, he hopes, with the help of God, to 
restore him to you safe and sound.” 

Dorothy sat with head slightly bent forward, her 
handsdying in her lap. She did not speak until Mrs. 
Brown laid her hand gently on her arm, saying ; 

It is a sore trial, but he who sends it will know 
how to temper it to you.” 

Then Dorothy straightened herself in her chair and 
answered in a voice that sounded harsh from the con- 
straint which she put upon herself. 

The Lord has seen fit to afflict me grievously, but 
I trust that I shall not fail in my duty of resignation 
to his will.” 

Mrs. Brown looked at her with an expression of 
anxious sympath}^, and then said in low tones, but 
with marked emphasis ; 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 233 

Yes, all things we know work together for good 
to those who love God.^^ 

Dorothy opened her lips as if to speak, but closed 
them again and relapsed into the same attitude of 
stern submission. 

There was no outward show of a rebellious spirit, 
no clenched hands, no tightly set lips as if to keep 
herself back from crying out against the blow that 
had shattered her dearest hopes. But every line of 
face and figure was stubbornly passive, as if she were 
saying : 

Tlie Almighty has the right to torture the crea- 
tures he has made, if it so please him ; theirs is the 
duty to bear without sign of murmur. No one shall 
say that I fail in that duty.^^ 

Mrs. K-hoda Brownes gentle, loving heart wa's sorely 
pained, and she went away feeling strangely depressed 
and repelled. 

It was well that the news of Sophy’s illness arrived 
at this time ; for the mood of resolute endurance of 
her great trial into which Dorothy was hardening 
herself would have caused her to turn a stony face 
towards the bright and pretty little matron who had 
first brought Donnycourt into the house. But her 
feelings were softened by the thought of her lying on 
her sick bed bereft of all brightness and beauty, her 
life itself threatened by the terrible scourge. 


234 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


All inquiries concerning Reuben proved unavailing. 
Nathanael, when written to, could give no clue. He 
carefully kept this new trouble from Mercy, who 
needed all her strength both mental and physical to 
support her through the long days and nights during 
which Sophy lay battling for her life. 

Mr. John Brown at length gave up the search, and 
returned to Providence. 

^‘Depend upon it, the fellow has run away to sea,” 
he remarked to his brother Nicholas. He will turn 
up all right after awhile ; and, no doubt, with a good 
deal of nonsense knocked out of him.” 

don’t feel so sure about the matter,” replied 
Nicholas. ^Hf he wanted to go to sea, why should 
he run away in a Boston vessel? Here are you and 
I with plenty of sail on the seas and with the will, 
as well as the power, to give him a good start. I 
would have helped him for his mother’s sake.” 

^^He knew that his mother wanted to make a 
preacher of him,” said John; ^^and instead of speak- 
ing his mind, he has taken this cowardly way of 
sneaking out of it. I should say that he deserves 
a good cowhide, if it were not that I am tolerably 
sure he has already had a pretty good taste of a 
rope end.” 

This was as far as any one got in the matter, 
though it made a great talk for a time, and while 


IK COLONIAL DAYS. 


235 


some held with Mr. John Brown that the lad had ran 
away to sea; others talked of foul play, and raked 
up stories of strange discoveries of bones in out of 
the way places; and still a third party shook their 
heads mysteriously, giving no opinions as to the facts 
of the case, but drawing lessons from it with a zeal 
that drove the poor mother to sterner and harder 
reserve. 

There was only one person with whom she slightly 
relaxed, and that was Jonathan Pursell. He was the 
last one who had seen her boy. She questioned him 
once about Keuben^s looks and manner when he met 
him in Boston; and Jonathan, after telling the 
meagre details of that short interview, added : 

“I misdoubt that I managed ill. A young fellow 
does not like to feel that he is watched and mounted 
guard over like a baby. I managed ill and was too 
easily huffed.” 

Dorothy knew the man too well not to understand 
that these quiet words betrayed the source of much 
self-reproach to one of his tender conscience and strict 
ideas of duty. She roused herself to say, with some- 
thing of her old earnestness and kindliness: 

know that you would never have left his side, 
had you foreseen what would be in his mind. But 
you could not foresee. It is the fault of no one ex- 
cept — ” She stopped herself and then added drearily, 


236 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


It is no good talking. It is the will of God, and 
we have no right to murmur against that.’^ 

But she seemed to like to have Jonathan come to 
see her ; and from that time on he was very regular 
in visiting the house from which all attractions to 
ordinary visitors had fled. 

When the news came that Mercy was staying to 
nurse Sophy, it was a shock to Jonathan that almost 
led him to betray the feelings so long and carefully 
repressed. But Dorothy was too much dulled and 
deadened by the former blow to notice the expression 
of his face; and, for herself, she took the danger to 
Mercy as another trial that must be endured without 
questioning. But, alas she was without that trusting 
confidence in the wise ruling of a loving Father, 
which makes such silent submission work for good. 

There was one quiet little damsel who shed many 
tears in secret over Reuben’s disappearance, and who 
also had her own opinions on the matter. She kept 
them, however, in her own wise little pate, partly 
because nobody asked for them, partly because she 
was not sure that she was at liberty to repeat all the 
glowing day dreams that Reuben had confided to her. 
This was Penelope. She was so quiet and discreet 
that her father often forgot, and spoke in her presence 
of matters that were not intended for her ears. Now 
when he was unable to confide this trouble to Sophy 


IN COI.ONIAL DAYS. 


237 


or to Mercy, and when, on account of the risk of 
carrying infection, he was shut out from going to 
Boston to search actively for Reuben, he took refuge 
in talking of the whole affair to this wise little 
daughter; though it must be owned he did it much 
after the fashion of a solitary individual discoursing 
to his dog or cat. 

Mr. Rogers had returned to Boston as soon as Doc- 
tor Avery was summoned. Indeed he took care to be 
off before the doctor’s arrival, lest he might be placed 
in quarantine. The great precautions that he took to 
disinfect his person and clothing proved to Nathanael 
that he fully understood the deadly disease with which 
he had been brought into contact, and also the proper 
means to be used to avoid carrying the infection. 

Soon after he left a heavy snow-storm came oh and 
the little family were for a time shut in with their 
anxiety and sorrow. In Sophy’s case the disease did 
not assume its most malignant form, but her restless- 
ness made her a very difficult person to manage. 

Mercy had laid down as a rule that no one but 
herself and the doctor should enter the sick room. It 
was very trying for Nathanael, but as he was assured 
that the disease was in a mild form, he assented to the 
severe, but necessary precaution. Thus it happened 
that no one but Mercy heard any of the disconnected 
words that Sophy let fall at times when her mind wan- 


238 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


dered and occasionally the names of Donnycourt and 
Mercy were on her lips. 

An old woman had been sent by the doctor, who 
attended to the cooking and the housekeeping, and 
thus the slow days dragged past, until at length the 
worst was over, and Sophy began to improve. Then 
came the hardest task for Mercy. 

Hitherto Sophy had not been clear enough in her 
mind to ask what ailed her; or, if she asked, her 
questions had been easily put off ; but now that she 
was really gaining and asked for her husband and for 
Penelope, Mercy could no longer keep from her the 
name of her disease. 

She had been lying quietly watching Mercy’s gen- 
tle, peaceful face, at last she remarked languidly : 

I have been ill a long time, Mercy, have I not ? 
I don’t remember ever feeling quite so badly before 
with cold and feverishness. Did the doctor think it 
serious?” 

‘^Oh, you are much better now!” replied Mercy 
cheerfully. He thought you needed great care, but 
the fever did not take a very serious turn.” 

I am glad of that,” replied Sophy musingly ; 
then, after a short pause, she added : I don’t want 
to get anything serious until I have done more good 
in the world. I have been thinking over what I 
spoke of before I was taken ill. I fancy Nathanael 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


239 


did not think I was in earnest. He thought that I 
spoke lightly and without reflection ; but I really 
mean to join the Baptist Church, and to do all the 
good I can in it. You see I might just as well do 
so, for it is not likely that we shall ever go back 
to England to live, and I feel sure it would please 
Nathanael.” 

Though her voice was low and faint, she spoke with 
a smiling ease that puzzled poor Mercy sorely. She 
could not frame an answer hastily, and before she re- 
plied, Sophy began to speak again. 

“I should like to talk to Nathanael about it. 
When is he coming in to see me? You are a charm- 
ing nurse, sweetheart; but he does not usually stay 
away, if he knows that I am laid up. Let him come 
in, dear.” 

^‘He is out just now, and you must rest a little 
longer,” replied Mercy quietly. 

‘‘Then where is Penelope? She is such a quiet 
little nurse, she never tires me. Do these pimples on 
my face make me a shocking fright?” 

Mercy tried to put aside these questions, but Sophy 
with her mental faculties no longer clouded, could not 
be easily satisfled. She caught the idea that some- 
thing was wrong with her husband or her child, and 
she was becoming so much agitated, that Mercy found 
that of the two evils the least to be dreaded was a 


240 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


simple statement of the true reason why she was thus 
secluded. 

She spoke very gently and cheeringly; but at the 
word ‘^small-pox’^ Sophy gave a little scream of hor- 
ror, and then covered her face with both hands. 

You are getting well so fast now/^ said Mercy in 
the same quiet tones, “ that you will soon be able to 
be about aoraiu as usual. We are all thankful that it 
has been a comparatively light attack.^^ 

Sophy did not reply; but after a long silence, she 
said in a broken voice : 

Bring me the little glass, Mercy. Let me see 
what a fright I am.^’ 

Yo, never mind that now,’^ said Mercy decidedly. 
When you are able to sit up we will get the glass 
and don all your bravery. But I cannot let you in- 
spect my patient in night-cap and curl-papers. She 
must look her best when you see her.’^ 

She spoke with an attempt at brightness, and Sophy 
did not press the matter. But Mercy saw that her 
caution had been of but little avail. Her imagination 
pictured her poor disfigured face far more repulsive 
than it actually was; and she now evidently shrank 
from being seen by her husband and child, as much as 
she had before desired it. Her recovery continued to 
advance favorably, but she was too much disheartened 
to make the most of her returning strength. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


241 


At last Mercy decided that it would do no harm, 
and might do good to let her see herself and to in- 
terest her in dressing her head to the best advantage. 
Sophy after the first glance let her do as she pleased 
and relapsed into listless indifference. Mercy tried 
other means to rouse her, and one dav overcoming 
her shyness, she tried to draw Sophy to speak upon 
matters of religion. 

^^What does that matter now?’^ exclaimed Sophy, 
with petulant anger ; I can be no credit to any one 
now. The best that I can do is to hide myself from 
sight, so that Nathanael will have the less cause to be 
ashamed of me.’’ 

And she burst into a passion of tears that it took 
all Mercy’s patience and soothing to stop. 


Q 


CHAPTEK XX. 


THE BURNING OP THE GASPEE. 

HILE his friends were thus passing through 



’ ' trials that brought out the gold in them, and 
relentlessly showed what was merely dross covered 
with tinsel, Jonathan Pursell was steadily continuing 
his studies at the Rhode Island College, with a sim- 
ple, earnest faith and a conscientious perseverance, 
that stood him in place of more brilliant gifts, and 
led President Manning to watch his course with more 
than usual interest. 

The College Building was near completion. It was 
a neat brick building designed to accommodate over 
a hundred students, and all the present students, 
twenty-two in number were accommodated within its 
walls. The meagre library of two hundred and fifty 
not well-chosen volumes, and the insignificant phil- 
osophical apparatus cost President Manning much 
thought. All the money collected outside of the 
colonies for the College had been applied to an en- 
dowment fund ; but the amount did not exceed nine 
hundred pounds sterling, and the interest on this sum 
was not sufficient to meet the expenses of tuition. 


Ooluliiul Days 











•»#» 




IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


243 


The fact that the College was especially under the 
control of Baptists, and that this control was secured 
to them by the terms of the charter, caused it to be 
slighted or unfavorably noticed by those in other de- 
nominations from whom assistance might naturally 
have been expected in the support of an institution 
for the spread of learning and polite education. But 
the President was not the man to be disheartened. 
He worked steadily at home, and he sought by every 
means in his power to excite interest in the other 
provinces and in England. To Dr. Thomas Llewellyn 
of London he wrote in February, 1772, giving full 
accounts of the prosperity and of the needs of the 
new institution ; and strong hopes were entertained, 
that Dr. Llewellyn would endow the College hand- 
somely ; but already the cloud was lowering that 
should for a time render all efforts in the cause of 
learning useless and impossible. 

The windy month of March had hardly begun, 
when a new vessel appeared in the waters of Narra- 
gansett Bay. President Manning and Mr. John 
Brown were standing one bright morning on the Col- 
lege Hill, looking out over the fine view of town 
and bay that the eminence commanded, when Mr. 
Brown suddenly interrupted his conversation on 
College matters, to exclaim: 

‘^Do you see that vessel down .yonder? That is 


244 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


the miserable wasp that has been sent here from 
Boston to harass us, forever stinging and buzzing 
about our ears. She is even now chasing one of our 
packets, if my eyes do not deceive me.” 

Is it the Gaspee?” inquired the President looking 
with deep interest in the direction indicated by his 
friend. “ Her presence works great evil to the ship- 
ping interests I understand.” 

Truly it does ! ” replied Mr. Brown with ill-sup- 
pressed irritation. Under pretense of enforcing the 
revenue laws, there is not a craft in the bay, from the 
smallest to the largest, that is not liable to be over- 
hauled and stopped at any time when it pleases her 
commander. Lieutenant Duddington, to make himself 
troublesome. If it were a question of fair and honest 
precaution against illegal trading, I could see that we 
had no right to complain. But this matter of forcing 
upon us goods that we do not want, and harrying us 
with the tyranny of these high-handed custom officers, 
is more than men of spirit can endure. There will 
be evil times ahead, Mr. President, if these things 
continue.” 

‘^We have, however, cause for thankfulness that 
the law has been repealed under which our brethren 
at Ashfield suffered such injury and oppression,” said 
President Manning, willing to change the subject, 
which was, of course, a very irritating one to a man 


IM COLONIAL DAYS. 


245 


of the sturdy and commanding spirit of his friend, a 
man too whose fortune was so largely involved in the 
shipping interests. It was a marvelous surprise 
to their enemies when the King’s repeal came so 
speedily.” 

It is an instance where the fears of the weak and 
evil-minded work for the benefit of the right,” replied 
Mr. Brown. “Governor Hutchinson is not so well 
liked in Boston that he can afford to lose any good 
will. There are times when the support of even a 
despised and oppressed minority is worth enough to 
make those in authority desirous to count on it. It 
was Hutchinson who wrote to Bernard to interest 
himself in the repeal of this law, and thus the matter 
was brought to the Boyal notice more speedily than 
could have otherwise have been effected.” 

“It will not rest there, I fear,” observed the Presi- 
dent. “ They will gain the ear of the Assembly at 
last, and will work ill to us again.” 

“They have made the trial,” said Mr. Brown, “but 
the Governor will not sign any law framed for their 
benefit until he gets them more fully over to his in- 
terests. What the result will be, we shall see. I 
prophesy a mitigation of the tax on the Baptists.” 

“ Kot a complete doing away with all these petty 
oppressions?” asked the President. 

“No, the times are not ripe for that yet,” replied 


246 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Mr. Brown. Rhode Island stands alone in her 
adherence to complete freedom. What may come 
in the struggle before us, it is hard to foretell; but 
we shall certainly not have any heavier yoke fastened 
on us; and it will go hard if we do not break off the 
one that galls us now.’^ 

hear that Mr. Davis is in very ill health,” 
said President Manning; “ I fear that he will be un- 
able to do anything for us, as the Warren Association 
desired last fall.” 

‘‘ He is breaking down,” said Mr. Brown, shaking 
his head gravely. My brother Nicholas tells me the 
work will fall on Mr. Backus, unless he is much mis- 
taken in his judgment of Mr. Davis’ case.” 

Although the conversation had turned from the sore 
subject of Lieutenant Duddington and the Gaspee, the 
matter was not to be thus easily dropped from the 
public mind. 

Complaint had been made to Deputy Governor 
Sessions, and the opinion of Chief Justice Hopkins 
was given clearly and decidedly, that any person who 
should come into the colony and exercise any authority 
by force of arms, without showing his commission to 
the Governor, and, if a custom house officer, without 
being sworn into his office, was guilty of a trespass, 
if not of piracy.” But when a sheriff was sent on 
board the Gaspee to ascertain by what orders the Lieu- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 247 

tenant acted, he referred them to Admiral Montague 
in Boston, and the only reply vouclisafed was ; 

‘^The Lieutenant has done his duty. I shall give 
the King’s officers directions that they send every man 
taken in molesting them to me. As sure as the people 
of Newport attempt to rescue any vessel, and any of 
them are taken, I will hang them as pirates.” 

It was while public affairs were in this tinder-like 
condition that Mercy returned to Providence. Sophy 
had recovered, but she was too weak and ailing in 
body and in mind for Mercy to leave her ; Penelope 
also was taken with a very mild form of the disease, 
so that the New Year was at hand before Mercy could 
even speak of returning home. 

Then a succession of snow-storms made the travel- 
ing so difficult that she was forced to remain still 
longer at Chelmsford. But from the time when 
Nathanael broke to her as gently as possible the sad 
tidings of Reuben’s disappearance, she was very 
anxious to return and distressed by every new ob- 
stacle that rose to hinder her from hurrying to her 
sister. The name of Donnycourt had not been men- 
tioned. Mr. Brown attached but little importance 
to the lad’s intercourse with the young captain, and 
when he had learned that Donnycourt sailed alone, 
he dismissed that matter from his mind. 

Thus it was not until Mercy arrived at home, 


248 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


towards the end of March, that she heard any men- 
tion of Donny court in connection with the matter. 
She was painfully affected by the change that sorrow 
and suspense had wrought in Dorothy; and the first 
time that Jonathan Pursell called at the Farm after 
her return, he found her almost in tears. She made 
an effort to recover herself and to greet him with her 
usual quiet friendliness, but it was hardly successful. 

“We have had much trouble since last I saw you, 
Mr. Pursell,^^ she said ; “ and I find my sister sadly 
changed.^’ 

If Jonathan had spoken what w^as in his thought, 
he would have replied that she herself was greatly 
changed. Although she had escaped the disease, all 
the watching and nursing, together with her anxieties 
both hidden and expressed, had left their marks upon 
the fair face. There was also a sadly wistful expres- 
sion in her eyes, that made Jonathan fiercely rage at 
his powerlessness to help her. He muttered some 
' words of sympathy, but Dorothy’s entrance inter- 
rupted their conversation and the talk turning upon 
Nathanael’s family Jonathan took refuge in inquiries 
after their health and well-being. 

“ Mrs. Rodman has but poorly regained her 
strength, and the hard winter has been much against 
her,” replied Mercy. 

“I hope that she will heed the warning that such a 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


249 


visitation always brings to those who can read it 
aright/’ said Dorothy in her grave voice, that sorrow 
and habitual repression had made almost stern. 

I think, sister, that Sophy has more serious 
thoughts than one might suppose,” said Mercy diffi- 
dently. She certainly took unusual interest in the 
welfare of the new Baptist Church in Chelmsford, and 
just the night before she was taken with the fever, 
she was speaking with great indignation about the 
persecutions in Ashfield.” 

‘^Well, God grant her a changed heart! I bear 
her no ill-will,” said Dorothy. “ She was thoughtless 
and giddy, but I would not hold her responsible for the 
ill-deeds of her kin. She could not tell what an evil 
day it was for us when she brought that young captain 
to our door.” 

Jonathan, who was facing Mercy, saw her turn 
deadly pale. She glanced with a terrified and startled 
look at her sister; then she lowered her eyes, and 
striving hard to steady her voice, said inquiringly ; 

‘^You mean ?” 

Don’t say his name, child ! ” interrupted Dorothy 
harshly. If he gives me back my son, I will pray 
that I may not be slow to accord him Christian for- 
giveness. Till then 

She shut her lips tightly and took up her knitting. 

Jonathan, still watching Mercy saw her countenance 


250 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


change, as with a sudden relief. She w^as still very 
pale and her voice trembled, but evidently some load 
had been lifted from her mind, as she leaned forward 
and said gently : 

^‘Dorothy^ dear sister, I had not heard. It is not 
possible that you thought there was any connection 
between Reuben and ’’ 

Again Dorothy interrupted her: 

know, I know, child. I have heard what peo- 
ple say — that Reuben disappeared on the Monday be- 
fore this young man sailed — and that he went alone. 
Well, well, let it be, let it be. The workings of 
Satan are hidden cunningly ; but the evil deed shall 
be brought to light.’^ 

She was evidently strongly moved, and Jonathan 
here interposed, with a remark concerning the journey 
of Mr. John Brown to Boston. The conversation 
glided into other topics, as exciting, but less personal. 
The movements of the Gaspee, the insolent manner 
in which Lieutenant Duddington plundered the in- 
habitants of the Island, the wanton firing upon ves- 
sels, and the heavy expense to which owners were put, 
in order to recover goods that were needlessly de- 
tained, the cost in some cases amounting to more than 
the goods were worth, — all these afforded safe topics 
and before he took leave the usual harmony was ap- 
parently restored. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


251 


In truth it was but apparently, for Mercy was 
greatly shocked by the discovery of this new bitter- 
ness against Donnycourt in her sister’s mind, and at 
the same time she felt that a word from her would 
clear Donnycourt ; for was he not in Chelmsford the 
very day on which Reuben disappeared ? Her sense 
of justice urged her to tell this fact to her sister, but 
the thought of the questions that would follow, as to 
his business in Chelmsford, and as to how she was 
cognizant of his movements, closed her lips. 

Jonathan, meanwhile, was striding towards the 
town, at each step bringing his boot down on the 
hard frozen ground as though he would crush under 
his heavy tread the miserable suspicions and the bit- 
ter disappointment that were driving him to despair- 
ing anger. 

^^He has spoken to her. He has induced her to 
pledge herself secretly. What else could have made 
her look so terrified and afterwards so relieved?” 
such were the thoughts that chased through his brain. 

brave soldier truly, to sneak thus into a house 
and win a maiden’s troth, without fair and honorable 
proposals to her family! But I must keep away. 
I nearly made a fool of myself this evening; and of 
what avail is it to stand by and see her suffer when I 
cannot lift a finger to aid her?” then his anger was 
quenched under a wave of misery. 


252 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


But Jonathan was not the man to let selfish passion 
get the upper hand. It was not the absence of faults, 
but the steady battle that he waged to subdue them, 
that caused him to be respected by those who learned 
to know him. But the very effort he made to raise 
himself increased his power of suffering. There was 
but little comparison between the sore disappointment 
felt by Jonathan Pursell, the aimlessly and discon- 
tentedly drifting young wheelwriglit, when two years 
ago he had complained to a companion in Olney^s 
Tavern of the favor shown to Arthur Bounycourt 
at the Fythe Farm, and the misery that the present 
Jonathan Pursell bravely fought against in silence. 
Yet he went quietly back to his studies, took no one 
into his confidence, and continued to stop at times for 
a neighborly chat at the Fythe Farm. These visits 
were not frequent enough to occasion any gossip, but 
they sufficed to make the two women feel that they 
had in him a steady friend, upon whom they could 
rely in case of need. It was a school in which he 
learned many lessons of self-denial, that would be as 
valuable to him in his chosen profession as a minis- 
ter of the gospel, as the Latin and Greek and other 
studies with which he was striving to raise his intel- 
lectual standard, and to increase his ability as an 
interpreter of the Scriptures. 

The early spring time came with buds and bios- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


253 


soms, and fresh green, softening the brown skeleton 
of the trees and dark earth as it re-appeared from be- 
neath its winter mantle of snow. May flowers had 
come and gone, and the early June roses were in 
bloom, when stirring news came to Providence. 

Captain Lindsay, of the packet Hannah, who was 
justly proud of the speed of his craft, enjoyed giving 
the slip to the arrogant Gaspee, and on the ninth of 
June, as the Hannah was returning to Providence, 
closely chased by the Gaspee, he passed by Namquit 
Point in water deep enough for his small craft, but 
too shallow for the pursuing schooner, which ran 
aground fast and firm. 

The news was no sooner conveyed to Providence, 
than a plan was concocted to redress the wrongs and 
annoyances of the last three months. At evening, the 
beat of the drum was heard along Main Street as a 
man, named Daniel Pearce, trudged along the sandy 
walk, summoning all who were spirited enough to 
engage in a bold undertaking, to repair to the Sabine 
Tavern. 

A party was soon collected and that night, under 
the leadership of Mr. John Brown, a company of 
picked men in six or seven boats went out to the 
stranded schooner. Captain Abraham Whipple, one 
of the most trusted of Mr. Brown’s shipmasters com- 
manded the expedition and after three hours rowing 


254 


m COLONIAL DAYS. 


they approached the vessel. LieuteDant Daddington 
sprang on the rail, as they drew near and hailed them, 
and returned a defiant reply to their questions. At 
the same moment one of the men in the boats fired, 
and the Lieutenant fell back wounded. 

The boat-crews at once boarded the schooner; after 
a short scuffle they captured and landed the crew, and 
from the Gaspee herself a long quivering flame shot 
up into the clear June night. Mr. John Brown was 
the last to leave the doomed vessel, and he delayed so 
long in his care that the work should be thoroughly 
done, and no vestige remain by which the attacking 
party could be identified or arrested, that he narrowly 
escaped with his life from the falling timbers and 
spars. 

It was the first blow struck, the first blood shed, and 
the consequences — what were they to be? Whither 
would they lead? This was what none of the men 
engaged in that undertaking could foresee clearly. But 
at least they knew their own minds and the temper of 
their fellow-townsmen, for although the British Gov- 
ernment, naturally hotly incensed, offered high rewards 
for their discovery and arrest, no one came forward to 
claim the reward. 

Although the Fythe Farm was three miles out of 
town, Dorothy and Mercy had seen on the sky the 
reflection of the glare from the burning vessel and 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


255 


news soon reached them of the actual facts. Dorothy 
was roused from her brooding over her own grief, by 
the eager interest that she took in this bold venture, 
and by her anxiety for the fate of the men who had 
carried it through. Not every one was brave, nor was 
every one patriotic, and Mr. John Brown knew that 
his position was now a hazardous one. 

Surely no one would be so base as to betray 
him ! exclaimed Mercy, when Jonathan Pursell in 
one of his visits spoke on the subject. 

trust not,” replied Jonathan; ‘^but eternal vigi- 
lance is the only means to ensure his safety. He 
knows no fear himself, but by his friends’ persuasions, 
he has been induced to sleep away from home; and I 
even know that bribes have been given to secure the 
silence of some who are weak enough to be tempted 
by the reward offered.” 

Mercy’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm and her lips 
parted ; but suddenly a chill seemed to fall on her and 
she turned away silently. Jonathan understood the 
quick cliange, and he too felt the shadow that had 
fallen on her. He did not show it as readily in his 
face, but he took his leave very soon and, as he strode 
along, he mentally questioned : 

Will it always be thus, that her natural interests 
and enthusiasm must be checked and repressed by the 
thought of that man ? Of course in this matter his 


256 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


sympathies are all with the British. Then too in 
matters of religion, if he cares for any church, it is 
for the Church of England. They can have nothing 
in common, unless one changes; and if he desires to 
settle in England when they are married, it is she 
who will have to change, or at least to repress all her 
own feelings and beliefs.^^ 

This conviction was gradually starting a new train 
of thought in Jonathan’s mind that began to over- 
throw with amazing rapidity all the stern resolutions 
that he had formed, when he first imagined that he 
caught a glimpse of the state of Mercy’s heart. 


CHAPTER XXL 


SOPHY HAS UNWELCOME TIDINGS OF DONNYCOURT. 

rjlHE June sunlight was pouring in through the 
deep-set windows of Mrs. Hezekiah Smith’s room 
at Haverhill; and, after darting mischievous glances 
into the dark eyes of a demure little maiden of ten 
summers, sitting on a low tabouret, with mittened 
hands decorously folded in her lap, it made a vain at- 
tempt to peep under the polished wooden top of a 
cradle. 

Over this cradle the young mother of the sleeping 
baby was bending and noiselessly pointing out to an 
admiring friend the round rosy cheeks resting on the 
pillow, and the half closed fingers of the little hands 
that lay pink and dimpled on the coverlet. As they 
looked the fists began to flourish themselves, the 
sleepy eyes opened big and wondering, and their 
young owner, with gurgling and cooing sounds, that 
constituted as yet the whole of his vocabulary for 
conversational purposes, announced his readiness to be 
taken up. 

‘^Ah, now you can see how much he has gained in 
expression,” said his mother, as she lifted him proudly 
R 257 


258 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


from the cradle. Come hither, Penelope, he will 
smile at you, if you snap your fingers to him. See, 
that was actually a laugh 

The baby crowed and flung out his fists, as if to 
catch at the pink sprigs that were scattered over tlie 
little girFs tasteful calico gown and then, as the 
older lady bent over him, he narrowly missed sticking 
an unmanageable little finger in her eye as he made 
a fruitless clutch at a truant curl that escaped from 
beneath her cap. 

Those dark eyes and clustering curls were now 
the chief beauty left to the formerly pretty face of 
Mistress Sophy Rodman. 

^‘Ah, you little sweeting,” she exclaimed as she 
dangled the ribbons of her reticule just within his 
reach. Who would have thought he would grow so 
bright in the six weeks since last I saw him. There, 
he has Penelope fast by the finger. Let him bite it. 
Pen, he cannot hurt you. Does he feel his teeth 
already, Mrs. Smith ? ” 

Penelope was wholly willing to let his little majesty 
bite her fingers, pull her hair, and pommel her brown, 
rosy cheeks, and the two mothers were soon deep in 
wise discussion on baby lore. 

The sound of voices and laughter floated out 
through the open window, on the rose perfumed breeze 
to the garden below, where Mr. Smith and Nathanael 



Colonial Days 


Page 258 





IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


259 


were walking to and fro on the gravel path in earnest 
conversation. The two nien stopped and smiled. 

^‘He is growing a fine sturdy little fellow for three 
months old,” said Mr. Smith with fatherly pride, then 
he added more gravely : God grant that we may be 
enabled to train him up to be a useful servant of our 
Lord and Master in the trying times that are coming.” 

In truth, I do not see how the times can be more 
trying than they are at present,” replied Nathanael 
rather bluntly. ^^Let us hope that they will improve 
ere that little youngster is breeched.” 

say. Amen, from the bottom of my heart,” re- 
plied Mr. Smith. But the improvement will not be 
brought about by supinely letting matters take their 
course. If all the Baptists were to follow the plan 
that you incline to adopt, and were to pay the taxes 
imposed for the support of the Standing Order, do 
you imagine that freedom of conscience in religious 
questions would ever be attained ?” 

NathanaePs deeply lined features wore a gloomy ex- 
pression, and he crushed the gravel under his heavy 
tread, as if he were bearing an actual burden on his 
shoulders. 

^^It is no fear for myself that prompts me to submit 
to an oppression,” he said at last. You can judge 
of my feelings when I think that my wife and child 
may suffer.” 


260 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


^^But would not your wife be the first to urge you 
to make a decided stand against oppression?’^ sug- 
gested Mr. Smith. have seen in her face the lively 
interest she feels in justice and right, even though she 
is not one with us.” 

‘^Yes,” replied Nathanael, “her nature is honest 
and true to the core. She would stoop to no paltering 
or deception in any case. But is it not therefore the 
more incumbent on me to guard her from evil ? ” 

“ Many of those men who withstand the taxes laid 
upon us by the British Parliament have wives and 
children,” said Mr. Smith. “But are they to be, as 
the eminent Lord Bacon hath it, ‘hindrances in any 
great enterprise whether for good or for evil?’ I 
would read it otherwise, and say, that they should 
hinder us from the evil and spur us on to the good. 
I see no other way to decide this matter than by the 
plain question of what is right and what is wrong. 
If a church has made a brave stand against unjust 
taxes, is it right that certain members thereof should 
for private ends compromise with the oppressors?” 

Nathanael did not reply, and they took another turn 
in silence, then he questioned: 

“Think you that these certificates will avail us 
anything? See in how many cases they have been 
twisted, and caviled at, and made out at the end to be 
but worthless paper.” 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


261 


Yes, I have seen too much of that,” replied Mr. 
Smith; ‘^and in truth I would gladly have all this 
certificate business swept away. We must strike at 
the root of the matter, and cry out for complete relig- 
ious liberty, as sturdily as we are crying for political 
freedom.” 

“ We must have a care how we involve ourselves,” 
said IS^athanael, significantly. ^‘It was the King who 
interposed to stop further persecution in the Ashfield 
matter. If in political questions we turn against 
our friends, can we hope that our enemies will show 
us greater consideration, if we are wholly in their 
power ? ” 

Mr. Smith shook his head and smiled, as he re- 
plied : 

There again I can only remind you, that we must 
unflinchingly hold to the right, and never allow the 
question of expediency to lead us to help on wrong 
and oppression. In my opinion injustice is always 
inexpedient. If the British Parliament had been less 
overbearing and tyrannical in their measures, the 
spirit of rebellion would be less rife in the colonies 
to-day; and if all churches are moved by kindly and 
brotherly feelings on matters of religious faith, the 
kingdom of Christ will be advanced, and each one 
will receive more amply of the peace that he left with 
his disciples, that peace which the world giveth not.” 


262 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Nathanael had again relapsed into silence. Mr. 
Smith’s words about compromising with the oppres- 
sors had stung him, but he was not yet ready to make 
any reply. 

Mr. Smith, who had that comparatively rare wis- 
dom, which keeps a man from going on striking the 
nail on the head until he splits the board, broke the 
silence after a few more turns up and down the gravel 
path by remarking: 

I recently met a man wdio inquired about you and 
your family. His name is Rogers, and I believe he 
has been in his Majesty’s service. I understood he 
had been surgeon in the army.” 

‘^Ah, I have good cause to remember him. But it 
was as parson that Folinsbee spoke of him,” replied 
Nathanael. ‘^Are you sure he was not chaplain?” 

heard nothing of that, and he showed little 
fitness for any godly occupation,” replied Mr. Smith. 

‘^However that may be, he understands the care of 
bodies, for he rendered us kindly ?nd efficient service, 
when my poor wife was taken with the small-pox,” 
said Nathanael. 

He inquired particularly after her health and 
after that of her nurse,” continued Mr. Smith ; I 
supposed that he meant Mistress Mercy Fythe and I 
assured him of her well-being. He seems to be tol- 
erably informed concerning some of your family, for 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


263 


he spoke of Captain Donnjcourt, and of his approach- 
ing marriage to a lady of fortune in England.^’ 

‘^He might readily be much better informed than 
myself on matters connected with that young man/’ 
replied Nathanael, with no greater manifestation of 
interest than politeness required. ^^He is a cousin to 
my wife; but we have little communication. He 
sought us out shortly after our arrival at Chelmsford; 
but, though he was stationed for several months in 
Boston, we have never seen him again ; so I fancy it 
was to mere curiosity that we were indebted for that 
mark of interest in our welfare.” 

Will you deem it impertinent if I ask how Beubeu 
became intimate with young Donuy court ? ” asked 
Mr. Smith. 

That was but a boyish whim,” replied Nathanael. 

has been made far too much of. I understand 
that my sister Dorothy will have it that he spirited 
the lad away; but that is only the error of a sorely 
burdened heart that seeks relief in laying the blame 
on some other than the beloved object. The lad was 
neither a rich nor a roystering companion, and I take 
it Arthur Donnycourt would make but a sour visage 
at the thought of being plagued with him.” 

The appearance of the ladies with the two children 
put a stop to the conversation, but Nathanael know- 
ing that the fair sex generally take a lively interest in 


264 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


marriages, even where they have little knowledge of 
the parties concerned, lost no time in cominanicating 
to his wife the news of Arthur Donnycourt’s intended 
marriage. The effect of the announcement was unex- 
pected and inexplicable to him. She looked at him 
for a moment with an almost frightened expression, 
and then turned away without a word. The crowing 
infant and the kindly host and hostess claimed his at- 
tention, and as they turned back towards the house, 
Sophy took up her share in the conversation. No one 
but himself had noticed anything strange in her man- 
ner. 

This visit to Haverhill had been often urged by 
Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and Nathanael had planned it 
at the present time with special regard to Sophy^s 
benefit. Ever since her recovery from the small-pox, 
she had been subject to fits of depression, that caused 
Nathanael much uneasiness. 

He thought that perhaps she was brooding over the 
subject she had spoken of shortly before her illness, 
and he tried once to renew that conversation and to 
explain to her something of Baptist principles. She 
listened quietly, but said little, and at last broke into 
a fit of weeping that much distressed him, and he was 
glad to take counsel of Mercy who had not yet left 
them. Mercy could only agree with the explanation 
that Sophy gave herself of her variable moods, that 


IN CX)LONIAL DAYS. 


265 


she had not yet fully recovered from the effects of lier 
illness, and that her nerves were shaken and unduly 
susceptible to excitement. 

After Mercy left, Sophy seemed to regain more self- 
control, but her bright vivacity was gone. Her for- 
mer prettily imperious ways had forsaken her, and 
she seemed nervously fearful of the least shade of dis- 
agreement. She clung to her husband with intense 
affection, but in a manner that was almost painful to 
him. It seemed almost as though she feared she had 
lost her hold on his affection. 

Nathanael was sadly shocked at first by the sight 
of the ravages the disease had made, but as her 
strength returned he scarcely thought of the lost 
beauty. Sophy was still Sophy to him, and his main 
desire was to see her health restored. If the same 
bright, loving spirit shone out from her eyes and 
spoke in the tones of her voice, his happiness was 
complete. The change in her spirits was a sore trial 
to him; and he had urged this visit to Mrs. Smith 
and in a busy season he had himself taken her and 
Penelope to Haverhill, with the hope of seeing her 
brightened and cheered in the pleasant society of their 
good friends. 

As he watched Sophy chatting gaily with Mrs. 
Smith and chirping to the little Hezekiah while 
dancing him in her arms, he inwardly congratulated 


266 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


himself on the success of his scheme. Her reception 
of the news of Donnycourt’s marriage puzzled him, 
but at the dinner-table she was unusually bright and 
lively, and before he left for his long and lonely ride 
back to Chelmsford she made a little remark to him 
which explained away his perplexity. 

I cannot say that I am pleased with the news you 
gave me,’^ she said. know that Uncle Donnycourt 
washes Arthur to marry an heiress, but he is not the 
man to be urged into any such match. I havm always 
felt that a good wife whom he really loved would 
make him, and the reverse would mar him.” 

With this explanation Nathanael rode away con- 
tent. While Sophy, angry with herself, indignant 
with Arthur, and miserable between hopes and fears 
for Mercy, was almost thankful that she had before 
her a week of absence from her husbaud^s watchful 
care, during which she could compose and indite the 
letter which she felt she must send to Arthur. 

She fervently hoped that no tidings of this rumor 
would reach Mercy, until an answer came direct from 
Arthur. When that arrived, she persistently assured 
herself, she would certainly be able to deny the 
report. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


JONATHAN LEARNS A PAINFUL SECRET. 



ON AT HAN PURSELL, in consequence of the 


^ new resolution that he had taken, became a more 
frequent visitor at the Fythe Farm. If it had been 
up-hill work trying to win Mercy^s regard when as 
yet her affections centered wholly on her sister and 
her nephew, it was a still more difficult and delicate 
task to try to efface from her memory the handsome 
and gallant young captain. But Jonathan had now a 
double motive ; he was thinking of her welfare as 
well as his own. He honestly believed that the con- 
nection with Donnycourt could bring her nothing 
but misery. Of course, the fact that Mercy could 
have been dazzled and bewitched into giving her re- 
gard to a person so unworthy of her was a shock to 
Jonathan’s feeling of almost undue reverence for her. 
But his respect and affection stood the shock ; and it 
awakened in him that feeling of tender protection, 
which is a surer safeguard of a woman’s happiness in 
marriage than the most rapt and exalted adoration. 

The question to be decided was whether Mercy 

could be won over to favor all his patient devotion, or 

267 


268 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


was she, as he sometimes feared, one of those women 
who, unwilling to own that they have been mistaken, 
cling to an unworthy object as helplessly as a trailing 
vine hangs about a dead tree. 

She treated him with more friendliness than she 
had shown towards him in former days, and her in- 
terest in his work \^as unfailing. Her own education 
was of the simplest description, but she would lead 
him on to talk of the welfare of the College, the 
books added to its small library ; the encouragement 
given to the President by that worthy scholar the 
Rev. John Ryland of Northampton, England, who in 
addition to other marks of interest sent word through 
the Rev. Morgan Edwards of his intention to pay five 
guineas yearly towards the support of the President. 
Any encouragement was grateful indeed to the zealous 
laborers who were working bravely against so much 
bitterness and unreasonable opposition. 

Mr. President wrote last February to Dr. Thomas 
Llewellyn of London, and he has great hopes that he 
may do much for us,^’ said Jonathan one evening. 
Dorothy listened with grave attention, but the bitter 
disappointment, that was ever present to her mind 
made all conversation about the College painful to 
her. It was only Mercy who listened with* hearty 
sympathy, and urged him on with questions and words 
of real interest. 


IN COLONIAL I)AYS. 


•269 


Why should there not be another lottery to raise 
funds for the College ? she asked. 

That has been spoken of, and I believe that Mr. 
President has mentioned the matter in a letter to Mr. 
Pylaud ; but though he wrote last May, he has not 
yet received any answer. If a good share of the 
tickets would be taken in England, we might even 
count on raising £2,000 by that means.” 

What does Mr. President think of the probabili- 
ties?” asked Mercy. 

^^He hardly gives an opinion. I know that he 
likes not lotteries in the main, but the College of 
New Jersey was greatly aided by lotteries granted by 
the Courts of Connecticut and Pennsylvania and New 
Jersey ; and we now are sorely in need of funds.” 

The Lord will not allow his work to languish,” 
said Dorothy in a tone that seemed meant to end the 
subject. 

That is true. Mistress Seaton,” replied Jonathan ; 
^^but we cannot expect a blessing if we stand idly 
waiting.” 

‘‘To what field do you look forward when your 
course of study here is ended?” asked Mercy. 

It was not an easy question to answer, but it served 
the double purpose of turning the conversation from 
a subject painful to Dorothy and launching Jonathan 
in interested discourse on the various fields where 


270 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


ministers were sorely needed, and where the spread 
of Baptist principles might be greatly advanced by 
young men who could in their own persons refute the 
charge frequently brought against the Baptists that 
their ministers were generally uneducated men. 

Such men as Dr. Stillman, Mr. Hezekiah Smith, 
Mr. John Gauo, and our own Mr. President are pil- 
lars of the Baptist Churches, but there is plenty of 
work for less gifted men, and I do not doubt that the 
Master will have my work ready for me when I am 
prepared. The object of this College is not to send 
out a few bright and shining lights, but to raise the 
average,’^ said Jonathan with a modest resolution, that 
made Mercy answer almost involuntarily : 

Whatever your work, be it great or small, you 
will do it with your whole heart, as unto the Lord, 
and you will not fail, Mr. Pursell.’^ 

These words were treasured in Jonathan’s memory. 
They echoed in his ears, as he walked back to the 
town, and climbed the easy slope to the hill on which 
the College stood. He paused a moment to look 
over the beautiful prospect spread out before him ; 
the town, and, beyond it, the bright waters of the 
Bay ; the islands on its bosom, and the more distant 
hills and dales being veiled by the light haze of 
evening, through which the full moon hanging low 
in the horizon shone large and red. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


271 


With her to aid me, what might I not attain to?’^ 
he murmured, then he turned and entered the building. 

It was several days before Jonathan again found his 
way to the Fythe Farm, but when the time came he 
had already resolved to learn his fate from Mercy’s 
lips. He did not mean to urge for a decided answer, 
but he wished at least for the encouragement he might 
gain, if she could be induced to promise him an 
answer after the lapse of a certain time. 

It was a warm and sultry afternoon, and as he 
opened the little gate, he caught a glimpse of a light 
grey gown in a little arbor, which was almost entirely 
veiled with honeysuckles. He hesitated whether to 
turn toward it, or to go direct to the front door that 
stood open. But it was Mercy that he wanted to see 
and the opportunity was too good to be lost. 

As he approached he saw that Mercy was reading a 
letter, but she looked up at the sound of his step and 
hastily attempted to crush the paper into her pocket. 
In her agitation she could not fold the large sheet, and 
recognizing Jonathan she seemed to change her mind, 
and letting it fall on the seat beside her, she advanced 
to meet him with a friendly though nervous greeting. 

‘^Sister Dorothy is very poorly to-day with the 
headache,” she said. She is not able to leave her 
room, but you will come in and rest, it has been a hot 
and dusty walk.” 


272 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


I interrupted you. Let me look at the flowers, 
while you finish your reading,’’ said Jonathan, with 
the courtesy of a simple kindly nature, but with bitter 
jealousy and pain in his heart. He had caught sight 
of the addressed side of the large sheet and he felt 
sure that it was a foreign letter. It was not hard to 
guess who was Mercy’s correspondent, although he 
was not familiar with the heavy masculine hand- 
writing. 

No, no,” said Mercy, flushing, but recovering her 
composure. I have already finished my letter ; 
and indeed I have been desirous to have your advice. 
Perhaps you will find it cooler if we sit here and 
talk.” 

As she spoke she turned back to the seat she had 
just quitted ; and now with steady hands she quickly 
folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket. But 
all her self-control could not conceal the traces of tears 
about her eyes, and the pallor of her cheeks as the 
momentary flush faded. 

The conviction that Donnycourt had presumed to 
write to her, and the equally strong conviction that 
this letter had distressed her, and that any talk about 
her sister’s indisposition, or any matter on which she 
might request his advice would be but a blind to con- 
ceal the real cause of her uneasiness, dispelled all ideas 
of prudence and caution from Jonathan’s mind. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


273 


If he had been sent to take the proposed turn 
among the flower bushes, he might liave had time to 
weigh and to choose his words; as it was he simply 
acted on the impulse of the moment, and Mercy had 
hardly seated herself and motioned him to the place 
beside her, when he found himself pouring out to her 
his whole heart, all his hopes, his fears, his longings. 
All stammering and hesitation were at an end. He 
spoke with the eagerness and simple eloquence of a 
man who is thoroughly true and unselfish and 
thoroughly in earnest. Mercy sat at first in bewil- 
dered silence, but as the full import of what he was 
saying, what he was offering to her, broke upon her, 
her face changed, a flood of crimson mounted to her 
very brow, her eyes grew dark and indignant, with an 
expression that Jonathan had never dreamed of, for 
even if she refused him, he had felt certain that she 
would do it gently, kindly. 

Oh how could you dare ! ’’ she gasped ; to me, 
a married woman?” and then as the full perception 
of her strange position forced itself upon her, she 
turned her face away and burst into tears. 

Jonathan sat for a moment perfectly still, then he 
rose and stepped outside the arbor. It was an almost 
involuntary movement to get more air; for, under this 
cruel shock, even the light vines seemed a smothering 

wall around him. Mercy, however, was roused by the 

s 


274 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


movement to a sense of her folly, and to the con- 
sciousness that she had betrayed herself. 

‘^Mr. Purseiy^ she exclaimed in eager, agitated 
tones; ‘^one moment, I beg of you \ 

He turned at once, and she was half frightened by 
the change in his face. 

‘‘May I ask,” he said, “why this has been kept a 
secret from me ? For you must know that I was in 
complete ignorance up to this moment.” 

“Ido know,” cried Mercy. “Forgive my hasty, 
words. I was so shocked, so startled. Oh, I ought 
not to have told you ! ” 

Before, Jonathan was grievously hurt; but now 
Mercy’s last words roused a feeling of indignant 
alarm. 

“ What is the meaning of this ? ” he asked sharply. 
“Does your sister approve of such concealment ?” 

Mercy shook her head, again weeping bitterly. 

“She knows nothing of it. No one knows. He 
bade me to say nothing, till he came back to claim 
me,” she said in a low half stifled voice. 

For a moment Jonathan was tempted to turn away 
in wrath. Deception was totally abhorrent to his 
honest nature. But the thought that Mercy had no 
adviser and was completely in the power of a de- 
signing villain, as he now mentally dubbed Arthur 
Donnycourt, made him pause. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


275 


you not see that this is utterly wrong?” he 
said, at last, in a tone that he tried to make gentle 
though suppressed feeling made it sound harsh even 
to his own ears. 

Do not be angry with me,” said Mercy checking 
her sobs with a great effort to speak coherently. If 
you will tell no one of my foolish words, all will soon 
come right. He tells me in this letter that he will 
soon return, and that he will write and explain all to 
my brother.” 

I cannot help to carry on such a deception,” said 
Jonathan, ^^you must see that — ” here he paused, for 
the very name by which he was going to address her 
was not hers now, and he could not bring himself to 
say Mrs. Donnycourt. 

‘^You can at least keep silence,” replied Mercy 
flushing hotly, as she divined the reason of his abrupt 
pause. 

“1 cannot imagine how you could have been per- 
suaded to such a step,” said Jonathan, not heeding her 
words, and pacing restlessly to and fro before the 
little arbor, as he tried to grasp all the consequences 
that might follow upon his silence or his speech. 

^^It was so hurried. He came to say good-bye, 
and had barely half an hour to talk with me. Indeed 
the words were said and he was gone, almost before I 
understood what it meant,” said Mercy wearily. 


276 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Without any preparation — without any witnesses? 
What insanity could have prompted him ? and he left 
you directly?’^ asked Jonathan, stopping short in 
amazement. “What minister could have consented 
to perform such a marriage ? 

“ I do not know who the minister was. I never 
saw him before,” replied Mercy, answering the last 
question vaguely; “and if he had not been forced to 
leave me so suddenly, he never would have asked for 
such a hasty marriage,” she added, with a little flush 
of pride. 

Jonathan saw that she was made cautious now, and 
would probably refuse to answer more questions. He 
had however gained a new light on the matter. 

As he stood crunching the gravel under his feet 
and knitting his brows, he mentally decided that this 
hasty ceremony had doubtless been a mere farce. He 
saw that it would not do to suggest such a thought to 
Mercy. So the result of his rapid thinking w^as that 
he would do well to keep silence. He feared that 
Dorothy in her present mood would be very hard on 
Mercy; and if Donnycourt were really on his way 
back, harshness and severity at home might drive 
Mercy to fly at once to him, as her natural refuge, 
when he arrived. 

The main thing now was to keep her safe and con- 
tented at home, and to get hold of the young captain, 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


277 


and obtain from him an explanation of the whole 
tangled business. Then if, as Jonathan fervently 
hoped, the ceremony proved to be as worthless as it 
w^as hasty, there would be at least the satisfaction of 
seeing Mercy freed from the toils of an unprincipled 
fellow. 

After he had thus summed up the matter in his 
own mind, he took his decision. 

‘^1 cannot promise to keep this matter a secret,^^ he 
said; ‘^but I can and will promise to say nothing 
without first warning you, if you will promise me 
that you will have nothing to do with that — with 
him, until he has honestly and honorably explained 
himself to your brother and sister.’^ 

Mercy was watching him with intense anxiety; and 
now as his eyes met hers frankly and fully, she saw 
no trace of anger, but only an earnest desire to act 
truthfully and to help her, such as might have act- 
uated him, had he been her brother. She dropped 
her own eyes and thought for a moment; then she 
said in a low but resolute voice : 

I promise.’^ 

Then, good-bye,” he said, as he stooped to pick 
up his hat, that lay on the ground, where he had 
dropped it in his excitement. 

I will not ask you not to think ill of me,” said 
Mercy with a slight quiver of her lip. I cannot 


278 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


justify myself to my own conscience. But you will 
not desert Dorothy, she looks so much to you in her 
trouble; and if we needed help about Reuben, she 
always said that you were the one to whom she could 
turn.” 

She is right,” replied Jonathan with decision. 

You are my friends ; and whenever I can help you, 
I will — if you will let me.” 

The last words were spoken with an emphasis that 
conveyed to Mercy their meaning plainly enough. 
She only answered : 

I shall keep my promise.” 

Then he bowed and went down the gravel path, 
and she heard the little gate click behind him. 

A bee droned heavily in and out among the honey- 
suckles, and a sunbeam flickered through the leafy 
screen and fell across the hands that were folded in 
her lap. Mercy noted every little trivial thing, as she 
sat looking straight before her, with sad, wide open 
eyes, that seemed too weary for tears now. 

Oh, Arthur,” she murmured, if you had only 
not left me ! Oh, if I had a brother like this to help 
me, to advise me !” 

She hastily drew out the letter from her pocket, 
and looked eagerly at its pages. It was longer than 
any that she had received from Donnycourt before, 
but it seemed like a language from a strange land. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


279 


All that he wrote of was so different from her 
quiet simple life ; and the tone was gay and flippant, 
not like the Arthur she had known. 

Even the announcement that he was coming to 
claim her, only gave her a painful feeling of the gap 
that there would be between her present and her 
future life. She tried to feel happiness, but she only 
felt dread. 

Over there in England how could she deport her- 
self, how would she appear to him and to his friends, 
and what would she herself become? If he would 
only settle here, in Providence, she told herself, all 
W’^ould be right. 

But it is an unalterable fact, that a husband cannot 
be chosen, like window curtains, to suit with certain 
surroundings ; he must be there, however the sur- 
roundings change. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


MISTRESS Sophy’s spinning-wheel seized. 
OPHY’S letter had been written with much care 



^ and thought, and, as she knew nothing about the 
sailing of vessels from Boston, she decided to entrust 
it to the hands of Mr. Smith, who expected shortly to 
start on another tour southward. 

It would excite no surprise in his mind that she 
should write to congratulate her cousin on his ap- 
proaching marriage, and in view of the possibility that 
the letter might fall into the Avrong hands she had 
avoided all mention of names, and had signed it with 
the fictitious name, that, according to the fashion of 
the day, she had chosen to make use of in her corre- 
spondence with young friends before she left England. 
Arthur had been at one time furnished with the key 
to these names, and she did not doubt that he would 
remember who wrote over the signature Cordelia. 

With the exception of this incident, her visit to 
Haverhill was both a pleasure and a benefit to her ; 
and Mr. Smith’s tact enabled him to speak to her upon 
religious subjects without either exciting her over- 
wrought nerves, or driving her into the half-defiant 


280 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


281 


reserve with which she had met the hopes and prayers 
that her bodily illness might be blessed to her spiritual 
welfare from some of their well-meaning neighbors at 
Chelmsford. 

She returned home cheered and strengthened, and 
the change in her spirits reacted upon Nathanael. He 
had made up his mind during her absence that he 
would unflinchingly stand by his principles. When 
he read or heard repeated the stirring words with 
which Mr. Samuel Adams and his colleagues in Bos- 
ton were battling for political freedom, his conscience 
pricked him sorely that he should hesitate about boldly 
taking his stand for religious freedom. He found to 
his great chagrin that he had delayed too long to be 
able to avail himself of the certificates this year. 
They had to be given in by the first of June, and that 
time was already past. 

Sophy had returned home with the strong determi- 
nation to brighten the house for her husband, and 
when she saw him depressed and troubled, she imme- 
diately tried to win from him the cause of his trouble. 
In his relief at seeing her no longer brooding over 
her own ills and again interested in outside matters, 
he told her the whole story, remarking at the end; 

^‘You see it is too late to do anything this year; 
and I feel ashamed of myself for my delay.’^ 

^^No, it is not too late!’^ exclaimed Sophy, with a 


282 


IN COLONIAL, DAYS. 


flash of her old spirit. have heard Mr. Smith 
speak on this matter. Why should you be forced to 
give certificates? It is merely another form of in- 
justice. These assessors of taxes say ^either we will 
extort your money, or else we will extort a certificate.’ 
I would say plainly, you have no right to ask the one 
or the other, and you shall have neither.” 

Though he shook his head doubtfully, this bold 
speech found an echo in Nathanael’s heart, and he 
looked with pride at his wife’s face, lit up with enthu- 
siasm. He did not at once assent to the bold measure 
that she proposed, but when the assessment was made 
for the support of the State minister, his dues remained 
unpaid. No notice was taken of this delinquency at 
first, and Sophy began to think with perhaps secret 
disappointment that her resolve had little of the heroic 
in it when it came to be put into practice. 

The long hot summer days were over and the 
wintry winds were again whistling shrilly about the 
little farm-house, and roaring in the wide chimney 
with a noise like the sea at Marblehead, when tidings 
came that took Nathanael in hot haste to Boston. 

The Committee of Correspondence had been formed, 
and while Governor Hutchinson was writing to the 
King: ‘‘Their scheme of keeping up a correspondence 
through the Province is such a foolish one that it 
must necessarily make them ridiculous;” all the 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


283 


towns in the Province were hastening to assure Bos- 
ton of their co-operation in an inflexible stand against 
the unjust exercise of authority and the oppressive 
taxes meted out to the Colonies by the mother country. 

All these public matters were becoming closely per- 
sonal to the little family at Chelmsford, for the affair 
of the Gaspee was now known to Nathanael; and 
although no direct information in words had been 
conveyed to him, he had little difficulty in guessing 
who were the leading spirits. 

Two months before this event the King had made 
it a death penalty for any one to destroy so much as 
an oar of a cutter, or the head of a cask belonging 
to the British fleet, and also had decreed that such 
offenders might be brought up for trial in any county 
in Great Britain. The men engaged in the burning 
of the Gaspee had not been discovered, nevertheless a 
message came with the December snows both to Bos- 
ton and to Governor Wanton of Rhode Island, direct- 
ing that the offenders were to be sent to England for 
trial, and the blood of the sturdy and independent 
colonists rose to fever heat. 

A letter was sent to Mr. Samuel Adams from four 
of the leading men of Boston, Deputy-Governor Ses- 
sions, Chief Justice Hopkins, Mr. John Cole, and 
Mr. Moses Brown, brother to Mr. John Brown, to 
ask his advice; and Nathanael too much excited over 


284 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


the danger to his friends to remain quietly at home, 
hastened to Boston to obtain the latest news. He was 
detained by storm and snow, and the eventful year 
1773 had been rung in before he returned home. 

As he entered the well-known kitchen and met 
Sophy and Penelope looking bright and happy over 
his return, he did not at first notice any change in the 
room ; but soon his glance fell on the corner where 
Sophy\s flax-wheel usually stood. It was not there, 
and Sophy following his glance with eyes glowing 
with quiet resolution, answered before he could speak. 

‘^Yes, it is gone. I told the collector that you 
would not pay a tax that he had no right to levy. 
Douglas Folinsbee tried to persuade me to pay. But 
I said, that when the people of Massachusetts Prov- 
ince were content to sit down every evening to their 
dish of taxed tea from the East India Company then 
they might come and ask us to support and to hearken 
to a minister, neither of our church, nor our choosing.’^ 

The loss of the spinning-wheel was a light matter to 
the frugal little household, but before the mouth of 
January was ended much more serious trouble had 
befallen others of their Society. Three of the Bap- 
tists had been taken to prison at Concord for unpaid 
taxes, even though they had given in certificates. One 
of the number was over eighty years old, and it was 
a very cold season. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


285 


Sophy was hotly indignant, but Nathanael was too 
much absorbed in anxious thought for the future, to 
show much outward heat and excitement. By dint 
of hard work, careful management, and scrupulous 
economy, they were dofng well on the little farm ; but 
the stormy aspect of both the religious and the polit- 
ical horizon caused Nathanael to question whether he 
had acted wisely in settling in Massachusetts. He 
broached this subject one evening to Sophy. 

Surely,” she answered with a little burst of pride, 
we are not to be frightened from our home by such 
measures. I do not imagine that they will put you 
in prison; and I will spin my flax on Elspeth Folius- 
bee’s wheel, till you can buy me another flax- wheel.” 

Nathanael smiled rather sadly at her eagerness, but 
he answered thoughtfully : 

If I could only have foreseen the way that 
Dorothy and Mercy would be left, I should have 
acted differently. I thought Beubeii would be grow- 
ing up to manage the farm and to take care of them, 
but now they are left without any one there on whom 
they can depend.” 

Dorothy always took the most of the management 
into her own hands,” replied Sophy; I doubt if she 
would willingly lay aside her authority, even for 
Eeuben to take her place.” 

True, true,” replied Nathanael ; and therein, as 


286 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


I read it, lay the core of all the trouble about Reuben. 
But it is different now. From what Mercy writes, I 
fear that Dorothy is greatly broken in health.” 

It is very strange that we can learn nothing of 
Reuben,” said Sophy. It is now nigh upon three 
months over a year since he went away. Surely he 
would have sent word or have returned himself be- 
fore this, if he had gone on a voyage to the Indies, as 
Mr. Brown supposed. He was a bright and person- 
able lad, that any mother might be proud of. My 
heart aches for poor Dorothy.” 

They turned off to discuss again the sad and mys- 
terious subject, on which no amount of discourse 
could throw any more light; and nothing more was 
said about their own affairs. 

Mr. Backus had been chosen as agent by the Asso- 
ciation in place of Mr. Davis, whose failing health 
had obliged him to give up work, and he was doing 
all that he could for his oppressed brethren. Many 
advocated strongly a vigorous stand and a refusal to 
give in certificates; but the way looked very dark 
before the Baptists. Everything was tending to in- 
crease the distrust which the colonies felt for the 
mother country; yet it was from the mother country 
that the Ashficld Baptists had received protection. 
The Baptists, however, were not swayed merely by 
self-interest. They strove to act from fixed principles. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


287 


They were firm believers both in political freedom and 
in religious liberty. Some of the people of Massa- 
chusetts were lovers of political freedom and pro- 
tested against taxation of the colonies by the British 
Government, while at the same time they denied re- 
ligious liberty to the Baptists, compelling them to 
pay taxes for the support of churches with which 
they had no connection, and could not have because 
of conscientious religious scruples. But the Baptists 
would manfully and logically stick to both their prin- 
ciples, whatever might be the result to themselves, 
though they did not deem themselves bound to re- 
main where religious freedom was denied to them. 

Therefore after looking calmly and bravely at the 
whole situation, Nathanael became every day more 
anxious to see his family back in the comparative 
freedom of Providence and Rhode Island. 

If Sophy and Penelope were in safety, he felt that 
he could brave any storms for himself with unyield- 
ing courage. Sophy also felt that if she could openly 
stand by her husband and share all the evils that 
might be in store for the persecuted Baptists, she could 
bear anything with calmness, but she had never re- 
newed the suggestion that she had made in such a 
singular manner one evening before her illness began. 
A good deal of knowledge had, since then, been 
silently penetrating her heart and mind. She had 


288 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


now a clearer perception of what was necessary to 
enable her to become a member of a Baptist church; 
but however she might think or feel, she was always 
met by the consciousness that she had acted wrongly 
with regard to Mercy and Donnycourt. 

When that is cleared up and I can tell Nathanael 
everything, then I can talk with him on this other 
subject,’^ she would say to herself as she restlessly 
tried to frame excuses for her conduct. 

She did not yet know the result of her tardy reso- 
lution to refuse her countenance to Mercy’s farewell 
meeting with her lover. During her illness Mercy, 
of course, avoided the subject, and afterwards by tacit 
consent they never alluded to Donnycourt. Had 
Sophy known what Mercy had told to Jonathan Pur- 
sell, sheer horror and dismay would have forced her 
to confess all to her husband and seek his counsel, 
when he told her of the rumor concerning Arthur’s 
approaching marriage. As it was she held her peace 
and the slight jar in the harmony between herself and 
her husband became an established part of the house- 
hold music. He did not know exactly what string 
needed tuning, and she, fearing that it might snap 
in the tuning, preferred the slight discord, and tried 
to atone for it by clinging even more closely to him. 

The March winds had nearly ceased their wild 
pranks and the April showers were at hand when a 


COLONIAL DAYS. 


289 


letter came from Mercy. Sophy took it from the 
bearer who had kept his word to deliver it in person. 
The sun stealing in through the kitchen window had 
nearly touched the noon mark on the floor. Every- 
thing was ready for their simple dinner, but Na- 
thanael had not yet come in so Sophy broke the seal 
and seated herself to read the large, hastily written 
sheet. Her brow contracted and an expression of 
anxiety and pity was plainly marked on her face 
when Nathanael came in and at once asked: 

What ails you, sweetheart? You look as if that 
large sheet contained ill news.’’ 

“Truly it does,” replied Sophy. “It is from Mercy, 
and she writes that Dorothy is entirely laid up. 
Severe rheumatism has grievously tormented her, 
during these cold and wintry months, and now she is 
so weak and overworn, that Mercy is sorely beset and 
hardly knows which way to turn.” 

Nathanael took the letter from her hand and read it 
through, then he stood pondering for awhile before he 
spoke. 

“ I see but one way,” he said at last ; “ and doubt- 
less you have already thought of it, little wife. You 
and Penelope must go to help Mercy.” 

“And you,” cried Sophy, with anxious foreboding. 

“ I will follow you, when it is possible. Just now 

I cannot leave the spring work.” He did not add that 
T 


290 


IN COLONIAL. BAYS. 


the cases of the Chelmsford Baptists, who had been 
imprisoned for non-payment of taxes was coming up 
for trial in a few weeks, and he must be at hand to 
give all the testimony for them that he could. 

“I cannot go and leave you,’^ urged Sophy. Who 
will take care of the house and make you comfortable?” 

But Nathanael when he decided on a course had a 
quick mind to think out the necessary arrangements. 
He reminded Sophy that he could get old Nancy 
Carter to do the cooking for him and that Elspeth 
Folinsbee was near at hand. And then he spoke of 
all that Mercy had done for them during her illness. 

“Yes,” said Sophy with a sigh ; “I know that you 
are right. But it is terribly hard for me to leave you 
just now, and in truth, I think, it is you they need 
rather than me.” 

“ I will come as soon as I possibly can. But you 
will be the best help and comforter now, and you will 
send me word exactly how matters stand with them,” 
replied Nathanael. “As to your going just now, I do 
not think that I should find it any easier to part with 
you at a more distant time.” 

He at once set to work to make all necessary ar- 
rangements for their journey, allowing no time to 
ponder over the loneliness in store for himself after 
they were gone. 


CHAPTEE XXIV. 


PENELOPE ENCOUNTERS REUBEN. 

I^ATHAXAEL little guessed who was really to 
be the most efficient in carrying comfort to the 
sorely tried household at Fythe Farm. Sophy her- 
self was prepared to carry to them loving sympathy, 
both honest and hearty. But underneath it lurked 
the old idea that always had such a charm for the 
quick-witted little matron. She was to be the helper, 
the confidante, the one to give advice and sympathy, 
and to draw them with her cheerful good sense out of 
the Slough of Despond. But they had not been long 
at the Fythe Farm before a close observer might have 
noted a different turn of affairs. 

The usual kindly welcome had been given on their 
arrival to both mother and daughter. But in some 
way it happened that the demure little damsel was 
more in demand than her mother. Sophy, like many 
quick-witted people, often jumped at a conclusion, 
and then was as slow as the greatest dullard in 
noticing anything that did not uphold this conclu- 
sion ; therefore she hardly remarked it when Mercy 
would come down-stairs, saying : 


291 


292 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


‘‘ May Penelope run up and sit with Dorothy for 
awhile? it cheers her to listen to the child’s prattle.” 

Or if she herself had an errand in the town and 
Dorothy was resting she would ask : 

^'May Penelope come with me? she must not lose 
her roses. A walk will do her good.” 

The fact was that both the sisters had a feeling of 
restraint in intercourse with Sophy. Dorothy could 
not forget that she was Captain Donnycourt’s cousin, 
and the one who had first thrown him in Reuben’s 
way. While Mercy, though she knew that Sophy 
had too much delicacy and good-breeding to try to 
force her confidence, felt uncomfortable just because 
she dared not speak of Donnycourt, and she guessed 
that Sophy, if she said little, thought the more. 

With Penelope it was different, Mercy was quite at 
ease and happy in the child’s affection, which had 
grown to be very strong towards her aunt in the days 
of her mother’s illness. Dorothy loved her because 
she remembered how much Reuben liked the quiet 
little puss, and when one day Reuben’s name came 
unwittingly to her lips in their chat over former days, 
Penelope’s childish affection for her old playmate com- 
pletely won the sore heart of the poor mother, and she 
encouraged her to talk of him, so that Penelope was 
even led to confide to her Aunt Dorothy her dreams 
of how Reuben would come back rich and famous, 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


293 


and they would all be proud of him. It was all great 
folly, Dorothy told herself, but it was soothing, and 
she relaxed as she never had before since the cruel 
blow had fallen on her. The child was simply fond 
of Reuben ; she did not speak gently of him and pass 
over his faults for his mother’s sake, as Dorothy 
always felt that older people did, nor could she under- 
stand the mother’s disappointed hopes. Thus there 
was nothing to gall Dorothy’s wounded pride, that 
was so quick to wince at every word or tone from 
kindly friends. 

Sophy was not at all hurt by this preference. The 
two sisters, who had inherited the quiet self-control of 
their Puritan forefathers, could easily keep their feel- 
ings out of sight, especially as it never occurred to 
Sophy that she was not just the one best qualified to 
comfort and cheer them. Being naturally impulsive 
and out-spoken herself, she never even suspected the 
self-restraint that might be exercised by others. 

Jonathan Pursell came in occasionally, but he was 
studying very hard, and as only a strong feeling of 
duty made it possible for him to continue his visits at 
all, he was relieved to find that the sisters were no 
longer alone. He felt that without unkiudness he 
could devote himself entirely to his work, which was 
both his solace and his safeguard. Sophy decided in 
her own mind that he was becoming very grave and 


294 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


unsocial, and that Donnycourt would feel no uneasi- 
ness from her foolish words if he could see him now. 

But here again Penelope found a way to the heart, 
and her simple chatter soothed an ache which must be 
hidden from all open sympathy. Jonathan had on 
his first visit stopped to help her to pick a lilac branch 
that was high above her head and to say a few pleas- 
ant words; on another of his rare visits he actually 
loitered in the garden with little Pen, almost as long 
as he had sat with her elders in the house. 

Penelope herself began to feel that she was of more 
importance than ever before, and as she was too honest 
and simple-minded to fall into conceit, it only had 
the effect of developing a naturally sympathetic and 
thoughtful nature, and she lived very happily through 
all the early spring days, as bright as the sunshine, 
and as sweet as the spring flowers. 

It was nearly a year since the burning of the Gas- 
pee, and though the flames that reddened the quiet 
June sky on that memorable night had long since 
faded out, the fire they had kindled blazed fiercely as 
ever in the breasts of the men sitting at Newport on 
the special Court that was appointed to inquire into 
the matter. The Commissioners had been rebuffed. 
They were told that any attempt to send colonists to 
England for trial would bring about a crisis. The 
people would not stand it. Indeed, every day was 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


295 


curtailing the list of things which they would stand. 
The Marblehead fishermen when they held a grand 
meeting on their return from the Banks in the pre- 
ceding autumn and expressed ^Hheir unavoidable dis- 
esteem and reluctant irreverence for the British Par- 
liament/^ only fell in with the prevailing sentiment. 

The child Penelope understood but little of all 
these matters, as she sat in the June sunlight, making 
whistles of dandelion stems. She had a favorite nook 
not very far from the house, but completely concealed 
from it by a dip in the hill-side and two or three large 
trees growing on the verge of what had been a quarry. 
Reuben used to take her down into the quarry, but 
Pen had a lurking fear that the undergrowth at the 
bottom might harbor snakes, so she sat under the 
trees on its margin and thought of her old playmate, 
while the sun sank slowly westward and threw the 
long shadows of the trees far up the hill-side. 

A slight rustle of branches beneath caused Penelope 
to break olf just as she had elicited a really satis- 
factory squeak from the dandelion bugle. She only 
thought of some rabbit or squirrel that was fright- 
ened from its lair in the underbrush, but when a tall 
gaunt figure with ill-fitting clothes hanging loosely on 
its bony frame slowly rose up before her, she was for 
a moment overpowered by the superstition of the time 
and only debated whether to scream, or run away. 


296 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Penelope, have you quite forgotten me?” said a 
hoarse voice and the figure turning towards her a thin 
and deeply lined face, began to scramble nimbly to 
lier side. 

She gave up all idea of flight, for the voice, changed 
as it was, could belong to none but Reuben ; and in- 
deed it was he who in another second stood beside her. 

^^Tell me how they are. Pen. My mother, is she 
well, and Aunt Mercy, and all the rest ? tell me, like 
a dear, good little soul.” 

There was an eager tone in the commonplace words 
that showed an intense longing for any scrap of home 
news; and Penelope began in her womanly little way 
to tell him of the health of each one. But she sud- 
denly checked herself, saying: 

“Come, Aunt Dorothy will never forgive me if I 
keep you away from her a minute longer. You must 
ask all the questions of herself.” 

“ Did you say that she is no longer so grievously 
tormented with those rheumatic pains?” asked Reu- 
ben anxiously, without heeding that Penelope had 
risen, and was only waiting for him to accompany 
her to the house. 

“ Yes, she has tolerable ease of body,” replied 
Penelope; “but it will give her the best ease of 
mind when she has you beside her again. You look 
sorely fagged, Reuben. You need food and rest. My 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


297 


mother will scold me well, if I bring you not in to 
supper without more ado.’’ 

nay, she will have no chance to scold, my 
little cousin, for I am not coming, and you must 
promise me not to mention that you have seen me,” 
said Reuben, as he laid a detaining hand on her arm. 

Penelope in distress and amazement pleaded and 
persuaded ; but Reuben was not to be moved. At 
her first mention of Ids mother, Reuben was tempted 
to go with her. But the thought that his Aunt Sophy 
would see him in this worn and pitiful plight was 
more than he could brook. A sullen and obstinate 
expression darkened his face, and he only answered: 

^AVhen I can return to be of use to mother, you 
will see me fast enough. I have given her enough 
trouble, and I am not going to return like the 
prodigal, just because I have had miserable luck.” 

think the prodigal returned, because he felt that 
he had done wrong to go away,” put in Penelope; 
‘^and perhaps, Reuben, it may be that you made a 
mistake in going away as you did. I don’t mean that 
you are really like the prodigal; for you have not 
been living riotously, I am sure.” She added this 
with quick apology, for Reuben was still her hero; and 
the fact that he had returned without the fame and 
wealth that they had pictured, made her the more 
eager to avoid anything like a shade of fault-finding. 


298 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


that I have not/’ replied Eeuben bitterly; 
‘^but, mistake or no mistake, I chose my course, and 
I must abide by it. When I can bring back to my 
mother a son worth the welcoming, then she will see 
me. Till then, forget all about me.” 

^‘You know we cannot do that,” said Penelope, 
think of you always; and now that I have Aunt 
Dorothy to talk to, I talk of you, too, very often.” 

You are a dear little creature,” said Reuben in a 
gentler tone ; and then the sight of two big tears 
brimming over in Penelope’s bright eyes softened him 
still more. And he set himself to comfort her with a 
tenderness and cheeriness that showed a brave and 
manly heart, whatever his faults might be. 

Penelope had been taught not to cry at trifles, and 
she was now very much ashamed of her tears, and 
fearful lest they should lower her in Reuben’s estima- 
tion. She therefore gulped them down as fast as she 
might, and made shift to show a brave front. But 
all persuasions and expostulations were unavailing. 
Reuben would not come home, and Penelope on her 
side was unyielding on one point. She would not 
promise to keep this meeting a secret. 

^‘You never could be more worthy of a welcome 
than you are now,” she stoutly averred. “ It is you 
that Aunt Dorothy wants, not anything you may 
bring. And if you won’t come, at least I must tell 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


299 


lier that I have seen you and that you are .... No, 
you do not look well.^’ 

^^Oh, yes, I am very well,’’ replied Reuben hastily. 
‘‘Of course, a sailor just off a long voyage is not as 
fat as a young lazy-bones, who did nothing all day, 
and fed on the best of mother’s and Aunt Mercy’s 
cooking. Well, tell mother if you will, but no one 
else. Tell her I am going off again, so it will be of 
no use trying to hunt me up. Give her my dear love 
and duty, and tell her she shall be proud of me yet.” 

A rustle in the underbrush on the other side of the 
quarry was now heard and an impatient stamping. 

“ There, my little pony is getting restless. He has 
brought me a fine stretch to-day, and he must go 
farther yet before we sleep. So good-night, dear little 
cousin, and I must ask you to forget me.” 

“ Even if I could during the day, I should always 
remember you when I say my prayers at night,” said 
Penelope, still clinging to his hand with a very un- 
happy expression on the little face, that betokened, in 
spite of her best resolves, another flood of tears. 

Reuben gently, but hastily, drew away his hand 
and plunged down into the underbrush. In another 
minute the soft thud of hoofs was heard on the grass, 
and Penelope caught a momentary glimpse of a gal- 
loping pony bearing its rider swiftly out of sight 
around the side of the hill. 


300 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


It was hard to leave her so abruptly/’ mused 
Reuben ; but I must make all the speed I can be- 
fore she recovers herself and goes home. If I don’t, 
I may be stopped. Mother might send to Mr. Brown 
or set Cudjo to chase me. I did not think that little 
Pen could have been so sturdily set in her own way. 
She meant right, and she is a good little soul, but I 
could not go home now. If my living has not been 
riotous, I fear me it has been far from righteous.” 

He seemed to take a sort of bitter pleasure in his 
own play upon words, but soon his face relaxed as he 
began again to weave the high hopes and good re- 
solves that are seldom long crushed in the breast of a 
youth still in his teens. 

He had rightly guessed that Penelope would not 
recover herself immediately. When she saw him dis- 
appear behind the hill she ran part way up the slope 
to try to get another glimpse of him, and to see at 
what point he regained the road. Of course it was 
wasted time ; the pony went faster than she could go, 
and he was entirely out of sight. She could not even 
guess which course he followed, and the sun was 
already sunk below the hill-top. Brushing away the 
traces of her tears, she went homeward as quickly as 
possible, thinking over the strange meeting with feel- 
ings of joy and of sorrow. 


CHAPTER XXY. 


MR. ROGERS HELPS TO REPAIR A WRONG. 

"PENELOPE’S news caused great excitement in 
the quiet little household. As Reuben had 
imagined, Cudjo was sent in haste with a note to 
inform their kind friend, Mr. Brown, of the clue to 
the fugitive, and to ask his advice and assistance. 
But this gentleman was from home. In their eager- 
ness they had forgotten that he rarely slept at home 
since the Gaspee affair had caused the danger of 
arrest to be ever hanging over him. 

Cudjo had been strictly ordered to give the letter 
into Mr. John Brown’s own hand; he, therefore, as 
he did not find him, brought the missive back again. 
Thus by little and unavoidable delays all chance of 
catching up with Reuben slipped away. Inquiries 
were made the following day by Jonathan Pursell, 
to whom Dorothy next sent; but he could only learn 
that no one answering to Penelope’s description of 
horse and man had put up in Providence; so that, 
doubtless, he had only passed through, or else had 
not even entered the town. 

Jonathan advised that no great talk should be 

301 


302 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


made about the matter; and through bis c^re and 
tact the story of Reuben did not again become town 
gossip. Thus Dorothy was left to draw all the com- 
fort she could from Penelope’s oft-repeated accounts 
of his words and looks, without being embittered by 
careless surmises and criticisms from thoughtless 
neighbors. 

Meanwhile Nathanael was working steadily and per- 
sistently in his lonely home, but evwy day increased 
his dislike to keep his wife and daughter under the 
rule of the Province of Massachusetts as it stood in 
religious matters. 

The Chelmsford cases dragged slowly along; noth- 
ing had yet been decided, when Sophy’s letter came, 
telling her husband of the sudden re- appearance of 
Reuben, and his equally sudden disappearance. 
Whether he had gone to Boston, or to New Ycrk, 
or to some otlier port, they had no means of ascer- 
taining; but Sophy asked Nathanael to make all 
possible inquiries in Boston, if his business took him 
thither. It was a bad time of year to be absent from 
his farm; and Sophy’s letter having been delayed on 
the way, the chance that he could learn anything in 
Boston was so very slight, that he did -not attempt to 
go there at once. As he learned that nothing could 
be done at present for his Chelmsford brethren, he 
was planning and working so as to be able to make 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


303 


a visit to Rhode Island. It was no easy matter; but 
with the help of Douglas the earlier crops were got 
in, and before corn-cutting came on, he packed his 
saddle-bags; and, leaving the place in charge of Fol- 
insbee, he started southward. 

He stopped a night in Boston, but he could learn 
nothing concerning Reuben, though in the matter of 
politics he heard and saw much that greatly increased 
his uneasiness as to the future of the two women who 
seemed to be left so lonely and helpless. 

If Mercy were married, it would give them a pro- 
tector,’^ he mused as she rode slowly out of Boston on 
the following morning. ‘‘ There is Jonathan Pursell, 
a likely young fellow, and greatly improved. I won- 
der that he does not strike her fancy. If it would do 
any good, I would speak to Sophy about it. But it is 
ill meddling in such matters,” he concluded wisely, as 
he urged Black Bess to a quicker pace. 

While he was thus on his journey, turning over 
matters in his mindj Mr. Rogers was alighting at the 
door of Douglas Folinsbee’s house, and there inquir- 
ing what had become of the occupant of the Rodman 
farm ; when he learned that Mr. Rodman had just 
started on a journey to Rhode Island, he looked 
rather nonplus.sed, then tightening the girth he 
mounted and rode off, muttering to himself : 

am rightly served for meddling in what does 


304 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


not concern me. ’Tis a hint to me to keep my fingers 
out of the pie.’^ 

He drew his horse and paused for a moment in 
indecision as he came to the high road ; then striking 
his spurs into his liorse’s flanks he started at a brisk 
pace nortliward. 

will not have my ride for nothing/’ he said, 
shall have time to go back to Boston around by 
way of Haverhill and to hear a sermon from Mr. 
Hezekiah Smith on Sunday. He seemed a mighty 
civil man when we met, and I think it likely he 
would give me a dinner. These Baptists are always 
in some trouble or other, and I should like to hear 
what their ^ great man of Haverhill’ has to say in 
their behalf. ’Tis well that I am not a parson, for I 
should prove recalcitrant, I fancy. I was really much 
taken with this Mr. Smith, and if he preaches as well 
as he practices, the men of this persuasion are cer- 
tainly not as black as they are painted.” 

While Mr. Rogers galloped northward, Nathanael 
pursued his way southward, and Saturday evening 
found him comfortably in his old nook on the little 
porch at the Fythe Farm. Although he had come to 
see his family, Nathanael’s mind was still greatly taken 
up with business, and Sophy even pouted a little at 
the numerous visits to friends in Providence and the 
long and private conversations with Mr. John Brown 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


305 


and bis brother. Natlianael only smiled indulgently 
and rather absent-mindedly at her complaints and 
protests. He was more than ever anxious to get rid 
of his farm at Chelmsford, and Mr. Niciiolas Brown 
had heard of a possible tenant or purchaser. 

Tiie friend with whom he consulted strongly ad- 
vised him to come back to Rhode Island, and to 
undertake the management of the Fythe Farm. It 
had been very carelessly managed since Dorothy’s 
severe illness, and both for her sake and his own, the 
change was strongly recommended to him. 

President Manning, to whom Nathanael spoke on 
the matter, was very cordial in his expressions of sat- 
isfaction at the prospect of a helper in church work. 

The church had not greatly flourished, and Dr. 
Manning, wlio did not allow his collegiate duties to 
overshadow his interest in the welfare of the church 
that was under his pastoral care, hoped much from the 
assistance and co-operation of a man of Nathanael’s 
character and energy. 

I trust,” he said, that we may ere long see your 
whole family united with us. Mrs. Rodman shows 
much interest in matters of religion, though her mind 
is not yet clear, I believe, on the point of a separa- 
tion from the church of her parents. Your little 
Penelope is a child of unusual thought and intelli- 
gence, and better still I think she has really that 
u 


306 


IX COLONIAL DAYS. 


simple, childlike faith and love, which older people 
often attain to with such difficulty and after long and 
sorrowful grasping in the darkness of doubt or pride.^^ 

‘‘Penelope!’^ exclaimed Nathanael in surprise, ‘^she 
is too young to understand such questions.^^ 

She is old enough to have watched your conduct 
closely and to have listened to many conversations 
that perhaps you little thought she heeded,^^ replied 
President Manning. “She has already spoken to her 
Aunt Mercy of her wish to unite with the church 
that her father has chosen, and while we refuse admis- 
sion to unconscious babes, who have neither will nor 
understanding, we would not turn away the young 
disciple who comes to us asking to be permitted to 
follow in the footsteps of her Master.’’ 

Nathanael shook his head doubtfully, and only 
re})lied : 

“ I will inquire into this matter.” 

He feared that Penelope had been like her mother, 
simply excited and interested through the interest 
which he had felt in the Baptists, and by their peree- 
cutions that had been much discussed in her hearing. 
That she could quietly and simply accept the convic- 
tions that he had only won after hard battles with 
himself and earnest, anxious thought was more than 
he could understand. When he did speak to her it 
was not in such a manner as to draw out her con- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


307 


fidence, he rather repressed with a kindly but de- 
cided, 

Wait till you are older, my little maid, and you 
can understand what you are about.’’ 

It was approaching the end of August, and Na- 
thanael was making preparations for his return home, 
when the news reached them of a terrible hurricane 
in Massachusetts, that had done great damage to the 
town of Haverhill. 

Mrs. Smith had written of it in a letter to Mrs. 
Manning and after enumerating much injury to prop- 
erty, she added : 

Mr. Smith has just been called to the bedside of 
one who has been terribly injured by this fearful 
storm. He was struck from his horse by a falling 
tree and still lingers in great pain. The surgeon says 
his recovery is very doubtful ; and if he does recover, 
it will be to a sadly crippled life. He was a stranger 
in these parts and was just entering the town as the 
storm swept through. His name is Rogers, and he 
sent a message to my husband praying him to come 
to him.” 

That must have happened the very day that you 
arrived here,” remarked Dr. Manning as he told Na- 
thanael of the circumstance. 

Yes,” replied Nathanael, ‘^and God’s mercy alone 
kept me from going to Haverhill on that day. Mr, 


308 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Smith had pressed me to spend a few days with him, 
but my time was so short, that I wished to give all 
that I could spare to my wife and yon little damsel.’^ 
The hurricane and its results were talked over with 
great interest and many expressions of thankfulness 
that Mr. Smith and his family had escaped all per- 
sonal injury. When the name of E-ogers was men- 
tioned, Mercy changed color so rapidly that it would 
have caused some comments, had not Sophy cried : 

I hope it is not the good doctor who came to me 
when I had the small-pox.’’ 

The name had not struck Nathanael and he quietly 
repl ied : 

I trust not ; the name is not an uncommon one.” 
The subject was thus dismissed, and a day or two 
after, Nathanael left for the north and thus just missed 
seeing Mr. Smith, who on the thirtieth of August, set 
out for Rhode Island Government to be present at the 
Commencement exercises of the College, and bearing 
with him a letter for Nathanael. It was the feeble 
writing of a dying man. Mr. Rogers had given it to 
Mr. Smith a few hours before he breathed his last, 
begging him to give it in person to Nathanael and on 
no account to trust it to any other hand. 

On Mr. Smith’s arrival in Providence, he at once 
sought out his old friends at the Fythe Farm, and ex- 
pressed great regret that Nathanael w’as gone. In 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


309 


speaking of the hurricane he mentioned the death of 
Mr. Rogers, and added that he had expressed earnest 
desire to have a letter conveyed to Nathanael. 

Sophy’s doubts were now removed, and she was 
sorely grieved to hear of the terrible death of this 
man, who had shown such kindness and humanity in 
coming to a small-pox stricken house. 

Mercy, however, was absorbed in her own anxious 
forebodings. Now that she had to bear the additional 
anxiety of a long silence on the part of Arthur, she 
felt that any open avowal of her connection with him 
would be intolerable; and her anxiety and dread as 
to the contents of the letter, that in a few weeks at 
the utmost would reach Nathanael, threw her back 
into her former state of nervous excitement, while 
the heavy strain to preserve outward calmness was 
almost unendurable. 

The mere sight of old Mother Truefitt was more 
than she could bear; as she pictured to herself the 
delight with which the old woman would enlarge 
upon the story of the clandestine marriage, if ever 
she got the faintest clue to it. Even Jonathan 
Pursell’s visits, though she could not distrust him, 
caused her nervous dread. 

It was while in this painful state that one evening 
in the early part of September she saw Dame True- 
fitt coming in at the gate. Sophy was on the porch, 


310 


m COLONIAL DAYS. 


SO Mercy escaped up-stairs to the room where 
Dorothy was already lying on the bed. Though 
she was stronger, a very little exertion wearied her, 
and Mercy could not help seeing that the main- 
spring was shattered. The strong will and the 
patient hope that had supported her during the sad 
days after the death of her husband and her father 
were completely broken, now that the last prop to 
which she had clung so tenaciously had failed her. 

Mercy spoke a few cheerful words to her sister, and 
then left the room, feeling too excited to preserve any 
calmness. 

“How can I ever tell her? It would kill her to 
have any new blow fall on her while in this state,^’ 
thought poor Mercy. “ If I could have foreseen, I 
never would have consented to anything that would 
trouble her. E-euben’s return will be the only medi- 
cine for her. Oh, if I had met him instead of that 
child Penelope! I would have forced him to come 
home with me.’^ 

Dame Truefitt was still talking to Sophy on the 
porch and Mercy went quietly down-stairs, hoping to 
find Penelope in the kitchen, for she wanted some one 
to talk to her and keep her from her own harassing 
thoughts. The front door was partly open, but she 
could pass it unobserved by those outside. As she 
came near it an exclamation from Sophy caught her 


IX COLOXIAL DAYS. 


311 


ear; slie stopped and heard distinctly the next words 
of the Widow Truefitt. In a moment she had crept 
softly nearer, and was listening intently. Then with- 
out a word to those outside, she ran fleetly up the 
stairs again to her own room. With trembling hands 
she made a little packet of a few necessary articles, 
wrapped herself in a dark cloak and hood, and again 
slipped noiselessly down-stairs. 

As she went out of the kitchen door she paused for 
a moment irresolutely, then she caught a glimpse of 
Penelope’s slight figure coming out of the stable, 
where she often went in the evening to say good- 
night to Brindle, who was her special pet since she 
had learned to milk her. She went quickly to the 
child and, laying her hand on her shoulder, said in 
low tones: 

Tell them not to be alarmed. Pen. I am going 
now on urgent business. Tell your mother and Aunt 
Dorothy, as they value Reuben’s life, to be careful 
and to keep silent. But, be heedful to say nothing 
before Mother Truefitt.” 

Before Penelope could make any reply, she was 
hurrying across the fields away from the high road. 


CHAPTER XXVL 


MERCY STARTS IN QUEST OF REUBEN. 

HE sun was still low on the eastern horizon the 



morning after Mercy’s departure when a clatter 
of hoofs drew the two anxious women, who had spent 
the night in sleepless anxiety, to the door. 

It is Nathanael,” cried Sophy in eager relief. 

The Lord be praised,” ejaculated Dorothy. 

Penelope had already run out bareheaded to greet 
her father. For the first time in her short life her 
father scarcely waited to greet her. He flung the 
bridle to old Cudgo who came hastening towards him, 
and strode into the house with angry eyes looking out 
dark and threatening under his contracted brows. 

Where is Mercy?” was his first abrupt question. 

We hoped that you had brought us news,” began 
Sophy anxiously, while Dorothy looked at him in 
trembling silence that spoke more strongly than 
words. 

Her evident weakness and unfitness to bear any 
great shock warned Nathanael to be cautious. She 
replied sadly in answer to his repeated question : 

We do not know.” 


313 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


313 


He said not more but turned and went quickly out 
as if to attend to his horse. Sophy, of course, fol- 
lowed him. 

“ What is it? ” she asked, frightened by his aspect 
of strongly repressed anger. 

‘^Hush! she must not know just yet,’’ he said, in 
low harsh tones. “ Read that.” 

He held out to her a folded paper, but quick-witted 
Sophy, before she looked at it, said : 

^^Go in again to Dorothy. She will tell you all. 
You will make her question you, if you stay away 
now.” 

He saw the truth of this and reluctantly entered 
the house again, while Sophy stood in the red morn- 
ing sunlight, and scanned the trembling lines written 
by Mr. Rogers on his death-bed. 

He simply wrote that he had, in the preceding 
November, read the marriage service, uniting Arthur 
Donnycourt and Mercy Fythe, that he knew it was 
not legal, and had only consented to do it because his 
friend urged him and represented it to him as merely 
an expedient to avoid the chance of the young lady 
being forced into another and unwelcome match dur- 
ing his absence. Having heard that the young man 
was returning to the colonies, he thought it right to 
warn Mr. Rodman, so that no unfair advantage might 
be taken of the young lady’s ignorance. 


314 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Sophy read the short letter through aud stood for 
a few moments in blank dismay. She had not 
dreamed that matters had gone so far. Betwixt anger 
against Donuycoart, pitying dread for Mercy, and 
above all fear of her husband’s displeasure, she was 
utterly confused aud helpless. Penelope’s voice at 
her elbow roused her : 

Father sent me to call you. He and Aunt Doro- 
thy want you,” said the child ; and Sophy had to hide 
the letter in her pocket and strive to collect her 
thoughts as she went back to the low, wide kitchen. 

Nathanael thinks it is not so bad about Reuben,” 
said Dorothy eagerly. He has heard some talk 
about a young sailor being impressed on a British cor- 
vette and then deserting. He did not get the name. 
But he thinks it must be Reuben.” 

“ Tell me exactly what Mother Truefitt said,” in- 
terrupted Nathanael, addressing his wife. 

She said that Reuben had half murdered a ship- 
mate in a drunken brawl, and was now in hiding 
down by Namquit Point,” replied Sophy. 

Well, well,” said Nathanael; we all know what 
a lively imagination Widow Truefitt is blessed with. 
Keep a calm mind, Dorothy, till I have investigated 
the matter. This impressing of young lads for the 
British service will not be borne by an independent 
people. And, if, as I believe, my story is the true 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


315 


one, I give lieuben credit for his bravery and his skill 
in escaping.’^ 

His assured tone did even more than his words to 
soothe poor Dorothy’s troubled spirit, and Nathanael 
was soon able, without exciting her suspicions, to call 
Sophy aside. 

You have read that letter?” he began in low and 
quick tones, and as Sophy nodded and drew it out of 
her pocket, he caught it impatiently, continuing ; 
‘‘ The main thing now is to keep it from Dorothy. ^ I 
must find out the truth about Mercy, whether he had 
any hand in her sudden departure.” 

‘^Oh no, that is impossible!” exclaimed Sophy 
aghast. 

Nothing is impossible,” retorted her husband 
shortly. never could have believed that Mercy 
would thus deceive us all; but if she is under the in- 
fluence of that fellow — ” He stopped suddenly as if 
he feared to say too much, then added : 

I will go at once to Namquit Point ; and if I And 
her with Reuben, all will be well. Meanwhile, little 
wife, I trust to your tact to keep Dorothy’s mind at 
rest. It is a sad evil to have you mixed up with ; 
but you are the only one I can trust to help me. If I 
once get them safely back home, no one must know 
this story. The villain was talking of marrying in 
England ! If he ever comes within reach of my arm, 


316 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


he shall rue the day that he dared to interfere with ray 
mother^s daughter ! 

He kissed his wife’s pale face, and went out quickly 
toward the stable. Evidently he had not the least 
suspicion that Sophy was in any way implicated in the 
courtship between Arthur and Mercy ; and she herself 
was half relieved and half frightened as she became 
aware of this. 

She was almost inclined to run out and confess to 
him herself, for Mercy would certainly betray her. But 
at that moment the sound of hoofs showed her that it 
was too late. She could only go in again to the usual 
daily routine, and bear the suspense as best she might. 
Dorothy was not in the kitchen ; and on going up- 
stairs to seek her, Sophy saw’ her in Reuben’s room 
kneeling by his bed in earnest prayer. So absorbed 
was she that she did not hear Sophy’s light footstep or 
the gently opened door. Sophy withdrew in silent 
aw^e. Then, for the first time, she thought of that 
refuge for herself ; and hurrying to her own room she 
knelt and prayed eagerly, feverishly, that these dreaded 
calamities might be averted, and that her husband 
might not learn anything to shake his trust in her. 

It was sunset before Nathanael returned to the 
Farm. Horse and rider were weary and jaded. A 
quick shake of the head and a hopeless gesture con- 
veyed to Sophy that he had learned nothing of Mercy. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


317 


He told Dorothy that, from all he could gather, he 
was certain that his story about Reuben was the cor- 
rect one. He had been in hiding at Namquit Point 
and last night had probably gone down the Bay in a 
fishing vessel. The man who had sheltered him could 
tell this much. But he did not even know the name 
of the vessel that he went on. The young man had 
left his house, saying good-bye,” soon after sundown, 
and had not returned ; so he guessed he had got off all 
right. Nathanael said to Dorothy, that if Mercy had 
met and warned him, it was very likely that they had 
gone off together. At any rate, he would the next 
day go to Newport to make inquiries. 

He went as he intended, but, while he was absent, 
a hastily penciled note from Mercy reached Dorothy. 
It merely said that she was caring for Reuben ; that 
they had found a friend, and would return as soon as 
it was safe for Reuben to venture abroad. It bore no 
date, or address, and only the letter M. as signature. 

Mercy evidently was afraid lest it should fall into 
unfriendly hands,” remarked Dorothy. 

But Nathanael had other fears when he returned 
and saw it. 

Of Reuben and Mercy,” he said to Sophy, I 
found not the slightest trace, but I have learned that 
he was in Newport, and sailed for New York just be- 
fore I arrived there.” 


CHAPTER XXyil. 


NATHANAEL MEETS DONNYCOURT IN BOSTON. 
HE wintry winds were driving through the 



crooked streets of Boston, laden with snow- 
flakes that drifted in eddying dance around the 
corners, nearly blinding the passer-by. 

In a room at the barracks, two young officers, 
wearing the scarlet coat, were seated at a table, on 
which stood a pack of cards and a decanter of wine. 

set of priggish malcontents, that is what they 
are; and they need a lesson from powder-horn and 
bullet-bag!’’ exclaimed the younger man hotly. 
‘^The sight of them drilling and manoeuvring in 
every little village! Pah! What do they expect 
to do against troops, if it comes to that? And in 
good truth I wish it would come to that. We would 
give them a lesson that they would not forget in a 
hurry.” 

His companion smiled, but it was not a pleasant 
smile. 

Don’t be in such a hurry, Deane. We have hot 
work before us, or I am much mistaken,” he replied. 

This business of fighting the wilderness results in 


318 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


319 


foi'Diing a picked race. None but men of good 
muscles and sturdy temper could have stood what 
the first settlers stood ; and their descendants are not 
to be despised. With forefathers and with training 
of that stamp, you may look for proper men.’^ 

^^Yes, proper men and good Tories too, Don ny- 
court; I don’t misdoubt it,” said Deane. ‘^For in- 
stance, your kinsman who lived at Chelmsford and was 
here inquiring for you a few months ago. Have you 
looked him up since you came back?” He looked 
anxiously at his comrade as he spoke. 

He ! Oh, he’s a rampant Son of Liberty,” said 
Donnycourt, carelessly, as he poured out a glass of 
wine. He lifted it and then put it down, and, rising, 
walked to the window. 

Arthur had changed in the two years that had 
elapsed since the day when he said his hasty farewell 
to Mercy. The tiglit-fitting uniform still displayed an 
elegant figure; and his whole attire, from the fault- 
lessly powdered hair and ribbon-tied queue down to 
the buckles of his shoes, showed the exquisite dandy. 
But the handsome face betrayed lines of temper and 
of discontent; and just now, under all his assumed 
carelessness, he was annoyed and ill at ease. 

Mercy’s influence over him had certainly been such 
as to bring out the good points of his character, but 
away from her, the fascination that she exercised over 


320 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


him waned. When he received Sophy’s letter, taking 
him to task, he was annoyed; but the impression soon 
faded. 

He did not really wish to marry the heiress whom 
his father had picked out for him. She was hand- 
some and rich, but she showed no inclination to look 
up to Captain Don ny court with a proper degree of 
reverence and adoration. He had an uncomfortable 
presentiment that if she were the mistress of his 
household, he might not infrequently have to exert 
himself too much, in order to have his own way. 
And on the whole Captain Dounycourt found no 
great difficulty in remaining faithful to the hasty and 
really not binding marriage into which he had be- 
guiled poor, foolish Mercy. 

When at length his brother made a very suitable 
match and re-instated himself in old Mr. Donnycourt’s 
good graces, Arthur found his presence no longer de- 
sired. He had not sold his commission, and now 
thought seriously of effecting another transfer. After 
some delays and prudent use of friends and money, 
this was arranged, and he found himself again tossing 
on the waves of the Atlantic bound for the shores of 
North America. 

The spell of Mercy’s beauty and her unworldly 
simplicity now began to resume its old power over 
him. He felt that in his father’s house he was either 


IN COLONIAL BAYS. 


321 


courted or slighted from interested motives; and, con- 
veniently forgetful of his own interested motives in 
returning thither at all, he contrasted the heartless 
manner in which his father and brother were ready to 
see him depart, with the welcome which, he was sure, 
awaited him from the gentle Mercy. 

‘‘ Sweet little soul, it has been hard for her I doubt 
not; but I will make it all right now. All shall be 
done in proper style; my glum cousin E-odman’s con- 
sent asked, pious Mistress Dorothy flattered and 
appeased, wedding-cake and favors all duly attended 
to. I was a fool to tangle myself up with that irregu- 
lar marriage ; but it was Sophy’s fault. She angered 
me with her talk of that young parson. It may as 
well now be all forgotten ; I’ll tell Mercy not to bring 
it up.” 

When he landed he was confronted with a reality 
very different from his dreams. He was wise enough 
to make some inquiries before going to Providence to 
claim his bride; and thus he learned the story of 
Reuben’s desertion. It did not suit him, just then, to 
mix himself up with any who had incurred the dis- 
pleasure of the commanders, whether Montague or 
Gage. Thus although he was in Newport, he post- 
poned his intended visit to Providence and sailed for 
New York. There a rumor reached him of Mercy’s 

disappearance. He imagined at once that she had 
V 


322 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


learned the illegality of their marriage; and, angry 
and hurt, he made no further attempt to see her, or to 
communicate with the Rodmans. 

Then came the eventful year of 1774, and more 
distinctly than before gaped the ever widening breach 
between the colonies and the mother country. The 
port of Boston was closed, and Gage sent there as 
governor. The first Congress assembled. The clarion 
voices of Adams in Massachusetts, Patrick Henry 
and Richard Henry Lee in Virginia, rousing the 
colonies to band together in defence of their liberties, 
resounded through the land. 

Washington’s bold and stirring 'svords in August, 
when he expressed a desire to raise one thousand 
men, subsist them at his own expense and march at 
their head for the relief of Boston,” showed the metal 
on which the colonists might depend if pushed by 
tyranny beyond all endurance. 

Gage himself began to feel that he had a more 
arduous task than he could hope to accomplish. He 
could not assemble a council ; for hardly any one 
could be found willing to incur the obloquy of accept- 
ing the position of councilman. Even when the peo- 
ple were most thoroughly roused there was an order 
and self-control evident in their meetings and their 
public acts, that boded ill for the success of any 
attempt at the subjugation of New England. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


323 


Arthur Donnycourt might well smile at the pom- 
pous talk of young Deane, fresh from England, where 
such strangely garbled accounts of the state of affairs 
were received, that Charles Fox was pityingly re- 
marking, that no people animated by what princi- 
ple so ever can make a successful resistance to military 
discipline,” and was ^Mejected and hurt from the sad 
figure that men make against soldiers,” at the very 
time when, after the seizure by the British of the 
powder belonging to the province that was kept at 
Quarry Hill, Gage and his troops in Boston had lain 
on their arms all night with double guards and can- 
non at the entrance to the town, fearing the invasion 
of the armed and incensed multitude. 

The colonists kept resolutely within bounds; and 
Gage, knowing that the whole country was full of 
roused and determined men, carefully avoided any 
stroke that might throw a spark on the tinder; be- 
cause, as he wrote to the Ministry at home, ^^a check 
would be fatal,” and if the King would insist on 
reducing New England, a very respectable force should 
take the field.” 

It was little wonder that Gagers officers had no time 
to spend in idle amusements. Arthur Donnycourt, 
although he had more friends and more money at 
command than he had two years before, would have 
found it very difficult to obtain leave to go off in 


324 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


search of his bride now, even had he been so inclined. 
In truth, he was so little pleased to hear that Na- 
thanael had been seeking him, that it spoiled him as a 
companion on the evening when Deane told him of 
it, and he lay down that night with a firm resolution 
to do all in his power to avoid meeting his cousiifs 
husband. 

But, such is the futility of human resolutions, on 
the following day Captain Donnycourt was ordered 
on duty to Salem; and there, at a tavern where he 
was resting while his horse baited, Nathanael Rod- 
man entered. The change in the elder man’s face, as 
he recognized the young officer, boded him no good ; 
but Donnycourt when fairly caught was not lacking 
in either bravery or address. He approached Na- 
thanael with the ordinary civilities and inquiries for 
the welfare of Mistress Rodman and little Pen. In 
the presence of the loungers at the tavern Nathanael 
had no desire for a scene, and his accustomed self-con- 
trol stood him in good stead. He replied coldly and 
turned away to address a friend who was seated near. 

There is something under this,” thought Donny- 
court uneasily as lie proceeded to hide his discomfiture 
in the careful mixture of a hot toddy. Although 
Nathanael vouchsafed him no farther open notice, 
Donnycourt was uncomfortably conscious that lie 
could not move without Nathanael’s knowledge. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


325 


Whether he warmed himself before the blazing logs 
in the wide chimney place, or sipped his steaming 
toddy, or sauntered to the window to look out on the 
dazzling stretch of new fallen snow, Nathanael, with- 
out actually looking at him, always happened to be 
facing in such a direction that Donnycourt was within 
range of his eyes if he chose to direct them towards 
him. It was a decidedly uncomfortable position, and 
to end it Arthur hastily tossed off the last of his toddy 
and walked out of the house, intending to cut short 
his horse’s meal and return to Boston. 

The door had no sooner closed behind him upon 
the company within, than Nathanael’s voice at his 
elbow said ; 

‘^One moment, sir. There are explanations due 
between you and me before we lose sight of each 
other.” 

The tone was so harsh and stern, that Arthur had 
involuntarily laid his hand on his sword hilt. Na- 
thanael noted the act and his eyes flashed, while his 
hardly maintained self-control was on the point of 
breaking down, when a rider of handsome and com- 
manding figure, mounted on a powerful horse gal- 
loped up to the inn doorway. 

It seemed as if the keen glance of the new-comer 
had read the faces of the two men in one brief 
moment. He dismounted and flinging the bridle to 


326 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


an hostler who came running from the stable yard, 
he advanced directly to Nathanael with outstretched 
hand and cordial greeting : 

My friend, you are the very man I am in search 
of. Your sister is with us at Haverhill, and only 
this morning I left her in the care of Mrs. Smith. 
She is very desirous to return home, but of course 
the weather has made it impossible. I imagine, 
however, that your business here is not too urgent 
for you to ride out to see her, and to receive the 
hearty welcome that ever awaits you at Haverhill.^^ 

The ministerial dress was not needed to enable 
Dounycourt to guess the identity of the speaker; 
for those who had once seen Mr. Hezekiah Smith 
were not likely to forget him. He had hailed the 
interruption as a chance of escape, but Nathanael 
forestalled that idea, and even while greeting Mr. 
Smith, he laid a detaining hand on Donnycourt’s 
arm. 

“Your pardon, sir,’^ he said; “we will, if you 
please, finish our business befiu’e we part.’^ And 
then, addressing Mr. Smith again, he said, “You 
could have brought me no more welcome tidings. 
I shall lose as little time as possible in availing my- 
self of the information, and of the invitation you 
offer me.^^ 

During this year of anxiety and suspense Mr. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


327 


Smith had learned much of the state of things in 
the family at the Fythe Farm; and, though he had 
never spoken with Donnycourt before, he hr. . little 
difficulty in divining who was the young officer, nor 
in understanding the tinder-like state of Nathanael’s 
feelings. 

If you will permit,” he said in his quiet courteous 
manner, would advise that you lose no time in 
seeing your sister, who is harassed with many anxie- 
ties concerning her nephew. And if I can be of use 
in relieving you of the settlement of business here, I 
hope you will command me. Captain Donnycourt, if 
I mistake not?” and he bowed to the jmung man. 

Mr. Smith’s personal influence was very strong, 
as many of his enemies had experienced, since that 
day in his early ministry, when an officer of the law, 
sent to warn him out of a town where he had come 
to preach, confused by his presence, stammeringly 
ejaculated : 

I warn you — off God’s earth.” 

His friend now felt the power of that influence 
and reluctantly yielded. 

Donnycourt, who had no inclination to enter on 
explanations to Nathanael in his present temper, 
welcomed the proposal with alacrity. He gracefully 
returned Mr. Smith’s greeting, and remarking, You, 
doubtless, desire private speech with Mr: Rodman. I 


328 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


will await your couvenieuce within,” he turned back 
into the warmth and glow of the tavern. 

There he was shortly joined by Mr. Smith and 
the two retired into a private room, but Nathanael 
did not at once set out for Haverhill. The advice of 
his friend and his own consciousness that he was too 
strongly excited to be sure of himself, caused him to 
abandon his intention of an interview with Donny- 
court; but it was only on a promise from Mr. Smith 
that he would report to him immediately the result 
of his conversation with the officer, so that he might 
himself seek satisfaction, in case Mr. Smith received 
none, that he consented to withdraw to the house of 
a friend, at a short distance from the inn. Here 
he impatiently whiled away the time until Mr. Smith 
rejoined him. 

^^Well, what does he say for himself,” he asked 
liarshly. 

Mr. Smith looked grave and troubled. 

I judge that the young man is weak rather than 
bad,” he replied ; he attempts no extenuation of his 
conduct and he honestly owns that he acted wrongly 
and thoughtlessly. He says that he returned intend- 
ing honorably to claim his bride, but hearing of her 
disappearance, and supposing that it was to avoid 
meeting with him that she had fled, he recklessly and 
madly abandoned all idea of pressing his suit.” 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


329 


“Acted thoughtlessly, did he?” exclaimed Na- 
thanael angrily, “I should say that it required a good 
deal of thought to plan secret meetings with a young 
maiden, and to hoodwink all her relations and friends 
even to the point of a clandestine marriage.” 

“Nay, but you must do him at least justice,” said 
Mr. Smith. “I would not defend his conduct, but as 
he says that he visited Mistress Mercy first with the 
full knowledge of her own sister, and afterwards at 
Chelmsford with the consent of Mrs. Rodman, he is 
not quite so much to blame as it might appear at first. 
The main thing that distresses me now is my firm 
conviction that a union such as this would be posi- 
tively injurious to your sister’s spiritual welfare; and 
I strongly doubt if it would bring her any happiness.” 

Nathanael was hardly following his friend as he 
spoke; his mind dwelt on the words, “with the con- 
sent of Mrs. Rodman.” “ Was it possible that Sophy, 
his loyal, true-hearted Sophy, had been helping to 
hoodwink him?” Then he found voice, and smoth- 
ered the sickening doubt with the stern and loud 
assertion ; 

“Of course, Mercy can have no more to do with 
him. The fellow lies to clear himself. My wife had 
no knowledge of this aifair.” 

There was a momentary silence, then Mr. Smith 
replied : 


330 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


I told the young man that he had no claim what- 
ever upon Mistress Fythe. Now it will be your best 
plan to see your sister, and learn from herself what 
are her wishes. I think you will agree with me that 
she is not in a state to bear any additional anxieties ; 
and that you will study carefully to approach this 
matter with gentleness and moderation.’’ 

He gained his object. For Nathanael’s thoughts 
were turned into a different channel, and the question 
of Mrs. Rodman’s knowledge or ignorance of the 
tangled skein of folly and wrong-doing was dropped. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


MISTRESS SOPHY IN TROUBLE. 

rriHE wind and snow were drifting keenly without, 
but a roaring fire blazing in the wide fireplace 
in the kitchen at the Fythe Farm sent out its genial 
glow and warmth upon the three figures drawn up 
around it. 

In the straight-back arm-chair sat Dorothy older, 
thinner, and with her upright figure more bent than 
the tale of years would justify, but her face wore a 
peaceful expression, notwithstanding the lines of care. 
Opposite to her the firelight gleamed on bright rib- 
bons and bits of color, where Mistress Sophy, graceful 
and dainty, notwithstanding her marred complexion, 
put out a little foot, cased in a high- heeled, buckled 
shoe, to the w^armth ; while Penelope sat curled up on 
a big grey wolf-skin that had been laid down before 
Dorothy’s chair, to protect her feet from the cold 
draughts that sifted in through the cracks and cran- 
nies, and made the sanded boards of the bare floor 
cheerless comfort for rheumatic bones. 

The wind and the fire made a strange roaring in 

the wide throat of the chimney, and at times the blaze 

831 


332 


IN CX)LONIAL BAYS. 


caught the soot at the back and a patch of bright 
sparks spread and crept upwards gradually disappear- 
ing and dying out in the black cavernous opening 
above. Flocks of geese/’ Penelope had learned to 
call them, and she dreamily watched their appearing 
and disappearing, as she thought over the varied 
events of the old year that was this night drawing 
to its close. 

Old Cudjo came in with a fresh armful of billets 
and piled on the lighter wood which crackled and 
sparkled merrily. Cudjo was now a hired hand. 
Mr. Moses Brown had set the example by manumit- 
ting his slaves the year before, and now the New 
England States had boldly taken their stand against 
this traffic in human beings, which Old England with 
strange infatuation strove to buckle upon the colonies, 
though it was abolished through the rest of her do- 
minions, and any man who set foot on her insular soil 
was at once free, since slavery could not exist in Great 
Britain. 

Penelope,” said Dorothy, fetch the big Bible and 
find our evening Psalm. In this fresh blaze your 
young eyes can read without the aid of candle.” 

Penelope did as she was directed, and while she 
read the words of thanksgiving in the one hundred 
and third Psalm, Dorothy’s head bowed lower, and her 
hands clasped tightly over a letter that lay in her lap. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


333 


It was Mercy’s last letter written from Haverhill 
and in it she told them that she hoped soon to be home. 
She had not left them througli all these long winter 
months without any word of her welfare ; but her let- 
ters were few and very brief. She dared not write 
fully lest Reuben should be compromised if the letter 
fell into the wrong hands, and these unsatisfactory let- 
ters had rather increased than diminished Nathanael’s 
anger and suspicion. Even in this letter she main- 
tained the same reticence concerning Reuben, but a 
line or two gave to Dorothy hope and comfort. She 
wrote : 

My poor boy is but recently recovered from long • 
and serious illness. Our merciful Father has blessed 
my unskilled care and has turned this grievous cross 
to the welfare of his soul; I can tell you more when 
I speak with you.” 

It was little; but it was enough to make Dorothy’s 
heart rejoice. Sophy too was feeling a decided elation 
of spirits. She had tried diligently to fill Mercy’s 
place to Dorothy. It was no easy matter to do this 
cheerfully, for Dorothy was sadly downcast. Na- 
thanael had at once made arrangements to let the 
Chelmsford Farm and to live at the Fythe Farm, in 
order to superintend matters for his sister, but he had 
become so irritable and moody that he could by no 
means be depended on to make tlie household atmos- 


334 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


pliere more cheerful. Sophy, however, looked upon 
all these rubs and trials as in some degree an expia- 
tion of her conduct with regard to Donnycourt. 
Sophy had felt much interest in the revival of religion 
in the Providence Church, which had at length blessed 
Dr. Manning’s earnest labors, and she tried earnestly 
to re-awaken Dorothy’s interest. How much of the 
success was due to herself and how much to little 
Penelope, she did not stop to inquire; but the results 
were satisfactory. Dorothy’s hard reserve had thawed, 
and now, with Mercy safe at home again, Sophy felt 
convinced that her husband would be freed from the 
wearing anxiety that alone could have so changed his 
usual kindly indulgent manner towards her. He 
had gone to Chelmsford ten days before, hoping to 
complete some arrangements for the sale of his farm, 
and they looked for his return shortly. With this 
good news of the hoped-for return of Mercy and 
Peuben to greet him, Sophy felt that the New Year, 
whatever clouds might overcast its political horizon, 
would begin brightly for their own little circle. 

‘Ht will seem a great change to Aunt Mercy to see 
that the old Meeting House is gone,” said Penelope. 

‘^Yes, indeed, and the new one so well on,” replied 
Dorothy. It will be one of the finest buildings in 
the colonies when it is completed. It was well done 
to put Mr. John Brown on as the committee of the 





C'olouial Dajs 


i>agt‘ 'AM 











I 



IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


335 


building. Whatever he undertakes will be done, and 
well done, even if he has to do it with his own 
hands.” 

^^It is a sad pity that she has missed the raising 
last August. I never saw a more general holiday 
and festivity,” remarked Sophy; ^^but there will be, 
doubtless, very imposing ceremonies at the dedication 
in the spring.” 

‘^The best dedication to my mind is the right use 
of the building for the praise and the glory of God,” 
replied Dorothy. “ I have heard Mr. Smith say, that 
at Haverhill the new house was hardly raised when 
they had meeting in the frame, and I fancy the prayers 
and exhortations found as great favor in the sight of 
the Almighty, as if they had waited till prelatical 
ceremonies could be held to consecrate, as they call it, 
every beam and stone.” 

She was speaking with something of her old dog- 
matism and severity, but it did not last. Her tone 
soon changed and she added gently : 

Forgive me. Sister Sophy, if I spoke too shortly. 
My father had strong opinions on these matters, and 
he detested empty show of devotion.” 

Penelope now rose and carried the big Bible back 
to its place, and then curled herself again down upon 
the wolf-skin. She wanted to learn more about Reu- 
ben, but the conversation lagged and Penelope had 


336 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


been too well trained to ask questions when she re- 
ceived no encouragement from her elders. She was 
sent to bed punctually at nine o’clock, but the two 
older women sat by the fireside waiting for the close 
of this strangely eventful old year. 

As the clock struck twelve Dorothy bowed her head 
as in silent prayer, and then rising, kissed the younger 
companion on the forehead, saying in heartfelt, tremu- 
lous tones : 

^^God bless the New Year to thee. Sister Sophy. 
You and the little maid have given me wonderful 
comfort in the trials that are past. May he reward 
you with the light of his presence through all the 
coming year.” 

It was Dorothy’s way of burying the last remnants 
of her hard and distrustful feelings towards Sophy; 
but the little matron, who had never divined these 
feelings, was impressed and troubled. She went to lier 
room with a mind full of good resolutions, and fell 
asleep at peace with herself and all the world. Her 
only regret was that Nathanael was not there to wel- 
come in with them the New Year. 

Nathanael’s return was in fact much delayed, but 
at this inclement season, that did not surprise them or 
render them uneasy. It was not until a fortnight had 
passed that Penelope, who kept a close watch on the 
road, espied the familiar figure mounted on a black 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


337 


horse, and ran to announce to her mother and aunt 
that Black Bess was coming. 

Another glance showed a muffled figure on a pillion 
behind him, and before many minutes had passed 
Mercy was in her sister’s arms, while Sophy and 
Penelope were greeting Nathanael with loving hearts 
and eager questions. 

Mercy is, I doubt not, half-perished with the 
cold. Can you get a hot posset for her, Sophy. She 
would not hear of further delay, though the journey 
was a hard one for lier, at this season.” 

The words were natural enough. But something 
in the tone alarmed Sophy. She felt that there was 
constraint in her husband’s manner towards her, and 
for the first time it flashed upon her that he had 
probably asked a full explanation from Mercy of her 
meeting with Donnycourt. She had anticipated giving 
him the glad news of Mercy’s intended return. Now 
she trembled and feared. A sudden cloud came 
down, shutting out all her bright visions of the 
future, and it was with a sadly troubled heart that 
she attended to the housewifely duties that had now 
so largely fallen to her share. 

She was feverishly anxious for a few words in 
private with her husband, but he had gone out to 
the stable, and in a few minutes Penelope c^me run- 
ning to her with the information that her father was 
w 


338 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


going into the town again. He soon followed her 
and confirmed her words. 

“Mr. Smith sent Mercy part of the way in his 
chaise, and part of the way she had a ride in a 
carrier cart; but I borrowed the pillion for her to 
ride the last stretch, and I must return it,^’ he said, 
and then added, “as I have some business with Mr. 
John Brown in Providence, I will attend to it all at 
once, and perhaps I shall stay wdth him over night, 
so do not wait for me.^^ 

With a hasty good-bye he was going out, but 
Sophy followed him with such anxiety in her face 
that he paused and waited for her to speak. 

“Is the trouble about Reuben she said in low 
tones. 

“ No,’^ he answered in the same tone, then suddenly 
he said to Penelope, who was standing by, “ Run up- 
stairs to your aunts, child,’’ and as she went out of 
hearing, he continued : “ I met Arthur Donnycourt.” 

“Oh, Nathanael! surely Mercy had not gone to 
him !” 

“ No,” he replied emphatically. “ Nor will she 
have any more to do with him. He, like the weak- 
spirited fellow that he is, tries to excuse himself by 
saying that he had your approval and countenance.” 

Nathanael was watching his wife keenly as he 
spoke. If he had hoped to see surprised and indig- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


839 


nant denial in her face, he was disappointed. The 
color mounted to her forehead as she answered ; 

Indeed, Nathanael, he had not that ; and he 
knows well that I took him severely to task. If I 
had dreamed that he would lead Mercy into such a 
step, I would never have allowed him to come near 
the place that afternoon. I have often, often, wished 
that you knew — indeed I would have told you all if 
I had not promised’’ — she was faltering and breaking 
into tears. 

Nathanael only answered shortly : 

I suppose so. Well, that is all,” and a cold gust 
of wind swept in as he opened the door and went out, 
closing it sharply behind him. 

Sophy, through the mist of tears saw the big dark 
shadow of Black Bess pass the window, and that was 
the end of the home-coming that had been so joyfully 
anticipated. She was ready to sit down and cry bit- 
terly, but the sound of voices on the stairs roused 
her. She must not show any traces of wounded 
feeling before Dorothy and Mercy. Of course, Na- 
thanael was angry ; but when he returned he would 
see that she had meant no harm. There was a 
terribly heavy weight at her heart, as she tried thus 
to comfort herself, for never before in all their 
married life, had she had occasion to say to herself 
that, of course Nathanael was angry with her. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


REUBEN RETURNS TO HIS MOTHER. 

^TERCY had borne up through the long cold jour- 
ney more by force of will, than from physical 
ability. She continued for some time in such a state 
of exhaustion, that they learned only by slow degrees 
the full account of her wanderings during the months 
of her absence. 

She had overheard Mother Truefitt’s account of 
Reuben’s misfortune and of the place where he was in 
hiding, and knowing that what Dame Truefitt could 
tell would soon be known to every one whom she 
could get to listen to her, Mercy took the sudden re- 
solve to warn him. She met him as he was on his 
way to the boat in which he hoped to get to Newport, 
and on seeing his sorry plight and, above all, the reck- 
less temper into which he had fallen, she made up her 
mind at once that she would not leave him. His pro- 
tests were all useless, and she proved of great service 
to him in aiding him to avoid recognition. 

He lay at Newport fora time concealed in the house 
of an old shipmate, who had carried on enough of 
smuggling to be well skilled in concealment, and who 
340 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


341 


had about his house nooks and corners that could con- 
ceal a man, as well as smuggled goods, if occasion re- 
quired. Keuben’s intention was to ship again on board 
a merchant vessel, but his strength was greatly im- 
paired; and, as no favorable opportunity presented 
itself, Mercy succeeded in persuading him to abandon 
that idea for the present. But he grew very impatient 
of restraint, and at length his friend found a vessel sail- 
ing northward in which they sailed for Portsmouth, 
New Hampshire. 

Tiie voyage in the wintry season was dangerous and 
stormy. Beuben insisted on working his way, and 
when they landed he soon got employment in a place 
where he did not fear recognition, but he watched con- 
stantly for an opportunity to ship again for a long 
voyage. They were near enough to Haverhill for 
Reuben to feel the assurance that his aunt could soon 
reach friends. He therefore made no decided objection 
to her quiet resolve to remain with him. 

It was something new to the poor boy, after all 
these mouths of knocking about, to have some one 
near who cared for him and eagerly watched for his 
coming. As for Mercy, the' feeling that she was doing 
him some good was quite enough to nerve her to bear 
any trials. At times the thought that she had cut her- 
self off from news from home and also from Donny- 
court was very painful. She hoped by degrees to 


342 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


persuade Reubeu to confide in their trusty friends at 
Haverhill and perhaps, through their assistance, to 
return home. Meanwhile she did all in her power to 
prevent him from making any ill-advised engagement 
for a long voyage. 

At length, when her influence seemed on the wane, 
and she was sadly looking forward to a solitary return 
to her anxious sister, E-euben was seized with a low 
fever. Instead of yielding to the usual remedies, it 
seemed to grow worse, and to be gradually sapping 
his already overtaxed strength. Then came a time 
when his life was despaired of; but the crisis passed 
safely, and he began slowly to improve. When his 
strength was really returning, he made a promise to 
Mercy that if she would return by land, he would sail 
on some vessel for New York, and, stopping off either 
at Newport or New London, would make his way 
home. 

In the present excited state of the country he had 
little to fear from informers; and he could no doubt 
have traveled safely through Massachusetts. It was 
little likely that the mild and vacillating Gage would 
thank any one who brought him this haggard young 
deserter to be tried, at the risk of still farther inflam- 
ing the people. He felt that they were already be- 
yond the control of his ^L'egulars,’’ notwithstanding 
the lion-like boasts and promises that he sent across 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


343 


tlie vast Atlantic to flatter tlie Royal ear. The ques- 
tion of money settled the matter of route for Reuben, 
who could work his way by sea, though he could not 
pay it by land. He might now be expected any clay. 

Of her meeting with Nathanael at Haverhill, 
Mercy said very little; and of Donnycourt, abso- 
lutely nothing. Poor disheartened Sophy stood too 
sorely in need of advice herself to feel inclined to 
offer it unasked. She could hardly comprehend how 
deeply Nathanael was wounded. Even had it been 
in a slighter matter, the fact that his wife, whom l>e 
had deemed as truthful and simple-hearted as little 
Penelope herself, should have been deceiving him, 
would have sorely shaken his high ideal of her; but 
that it should have been at the bidding of Donny- 
court, whom he always despised, and that this gay 
young fop should have had the chance to act such a 
shabby part towards his sister, galled his pride inex- 
pressibly. 

He rode about the following day, on one pretext 
and another, until he got his tongue, as he supposed, 
well under control. But he found when he went 
home, that it was hard work to act and speak as 
usual; and above all, he dreaded any explanation 
from Sophy, which might lead him to speak words 
that he could never recall. 

Finding that Reuben might possibly be in New- 


344 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


port, he announced his intention of going to meet 
him, and that same afternoon he went away again, 

Wiien at length the weather-beaten face of the 
young sailor appeared at the door of the old kitchen, 
lie was alone. Sophy could not trust her voice to ask 
any questions. But as soon as her joy at seeing her 
boy once more would allow other thoughts to intrude, 
Dorothy inquired for Nathanael. 

‘‘Did he go to Newport to meet me?'' said Reuben. 
“ Then we have missed each other. They were short- 
handed on the schooner and I had to go on with them 
to New York. I should have been several days 
sooner if I could have stopped at Newport. My 
uncle must have learned that the ‘Betty' had gone on 
to New York, and he .will soon be back." 

That night Sophy shed very bitter tears. All her 
peaceful emotions and resolves in the beginning of the 
New Year had taken flight, and onlv an aching sense 
of misery and injustice remained. Even Mercy, who 
was the chief offender, was not, as she said to herself, 
suffering as she was. She had all the credit of 
having saved Reuben, and, as for Donnycourt, she 
evidently did not care about him. 

Mercy, for her part, was fighting a hard battle. 
Mr. Smith had been keen enough to penetrate through 
the ardent protestations of Arthur Donnycourt. He 
divined that, however much the news of Mercy's 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


345 


really heroic conduct in caring for her nephew and 
the knowledge that she was so near to him, might 
have stirred the embei*s of the young man’s passion, 
it could be no very trustworthy affection that had lain 
dormant for two years, or betrayed only such feeble 
flickerings of life. 

He impressed upon Nathanael the advisability of 
placing this strongly before Mercy, and then leaving 
her to make her own choice ; assuring her at the same 
time that she was entirely free; that the marriage was 
not legally binding; and that, in case she desired the 
young man recalled to her side, the ceremony must be 
properly performed. 

Mercy at once and utterly refused to have any fur- 
ther communication with him, and when on the fol- 
lowing day a letter came for her in his handwriting, 
she returned it with a few lines requesting him to 
attempt no further correspondence with her. This, 
however, could not efface from her mind the deeply- 
rooted feeling of the last two years that she was really 
a married woman ; and the freedom in which her 
brother and her friends rejoiced was to her mind 
much the same as that of a woman who has been 
separated from her husband. 

She could not bring herself to speak on the subject 
to any one, and it was an intense relief to her to find 
that Dorothy had heard nothing of it. Jonathan 


346 


m COLONIAL. DAYS. 


Pursell, whom she had dreaded meeting, was absent 
from Providence, supplying for a time a little newly 
formed Baptist Church in Massachusetts. 

If she had not been haunted by the memory of the 
past, she would have rested and enjoyed the tender 
care of her sister and Sophy and little Pen ; but, as it 
was, she felt that she dared not relax the stern vigi- 
lance that she kept up over herself, and as the result 
she pushed the strain too far, and soon after Reuben’s 
return she broke down utterly. 

For days her mind wandered in fevered fancies, and 
the intervals in which reason strove to resume her 
sway were haunted by the dread lest some delirious 
words had betrayed her secret to Dorothy. When 
the force of the fever abated Mercy’s strength seemed 
crushed, and all her interest in life completely gone. 
She had hardly sufficient strength to note the events 
transpiring immediately around her. 

The talk of train-bands and minute men drilling 
steadily and unceasingly, so as to be ready for action at 
a minute’s notice, fell on unheeding ears. It was little 
to her that Gage’s request for twenty thousand had 
been refused by the British Parliament, on the ground 
that a smaller number would be sufficient to quell the 
rude rabble ” ; or that Chatham’s earnest efforts to 
effect a reconciliation and to avert the impending civil 
war had proved utterly fruitless. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


347 


But the tide of events rolled on. Lord Chatham’s 
bill for the repeal of offensive statutes and the renun- 
ciation of the right of taxation on the part of Eng- 
land, and requiring that America, on her side, should 
recognize the right of Parliament to regulate the com- 
merce of the whole Empire, and should defray by free 
grants the expenses of her own governments, was re- 
jected in the House of Lords by a vote of sixty-one 
to thirty-two. No wonder their obstinacy and willful 
blindness led Franklin to exclaim, Hereditary legis- 
lators ! there would be more propriety in having 
hereditary professors of mathematics !” 

Meanwhile the preparation of military supplies was 
going on ; militia troops were reviewed and every 
possible step was taken by the colonists to be in readi- 
ness for the coming shock, which they deprecated, but 
clearly foresaw. And while the mildest winter ever 
known in Boston was drawing to a close. Lord Howe 
and his brother were nearing the American shores, 
sent out from England, the former as pacificator, the 
latter to supersede the vacillating Gage, as head of the 
British troops in Boston. 

Mercy, wrapped in her own sad thoughts, scarcely 
heeded such news as reached her ears. Had Arthur 
Donnycourt been content to accept her rebuff, and 
did he really mean nothing by all his protestations? 
From the man who had played upon her feelings and 


348 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


imposed upon her credulity, she shrank with horror; 
from the man who had carelessly left her to endure 
two years of miserable concealment and disappointed 
expectation, she turned with contempt; but through 
all spoke the forgiving patience of a loving woman, 
suggesting how he might explain, how he might clear 
himself, or at least how he might nobly and honorably 
confess his faults and atone for them, if — there came 
the great point — he really cared for her. 

But, truth to say, Donnycourt was first ashamed 
then angry, then relieved to find that he had been re- 
leased from any entanglement. The relief he scarcely 
owned even to himself; he was the ‘^unfortunate vic- 
tim of circumstances’’; “fate was against him;” for 
the gay young officer was fast drifting into the care- 
less unbelief which was so prevalent at the time and 
which recognized nothing higher or lower than lucky 
or unlucky chance. 

Meanwhile Jonathan Pursell was busied in his field 
of labor, diligently caring for a weak church and nur- 
turing, with their religious belief, that strong regard 
for political justice and liberty which was characteristic 
of the Baptists in this troubled time. While thus 
engaged he learned of Mercy’s illness and her de- 
spondency; and he found time to write a carefully 
worded appeal to Mrs. Manning, begging her to use 
her influence to rouse and soothe the sorely wounded 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


349 


spirit of the sufferer. He could not even allude to 
V'hat he knew to be the real cause of Mercy ^s grief ; 
and he adopted the only way in which he could justify 
and explain his appeal to Mrs. Manning. It was 
hard for his pride and his sensitive nature, but he 
told her plainly of his deep love for Mercy and that, 
being debarred by her own already expressed desire 
from intruding himself upon her, his greatest happi- 
ness would now be in the assurance that she was 
regaining the health of body and the peace of mind 
which had been so severely strained by her recent 
anxieties. He inclosed the letter in one to Mr. Man- 
ning, and then steadily turned to his work again, fol- 
lowing with his prayers the missive that had cost him 
so much thought and mental struggle. 

He had, in truth, done the best thing for Mercy. 
She had asked to be excused from seeing any friends. 
Dorothy had gathered enough from the frequent 
recurrence of Donnycourt’s name in her fevered in- 
coherence, to be very tender and anxious to humor 
her. Sophy was wrapped up in her own anxieties; 
for NathanaePs manner to her had not once resumed 
its usual affectionate unrestraint; and, in truth, he 
had only been home twice for a few hours in the two 
months since Mercy’s return. 

It was only little Pen who was clear-sighted enough 
to see that Aunt Mercy was sadly changed, and to 


350 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


wish that somebody wise and kind enough to do her 
good would come to talk with her and to comfort her. 

Mrs. Manning read the letter, when her husband 
handed it to her, with womanly interest and sympathy. 

It was only two months since she had herself 
united with the church, and her heart had been very 
deeply stirred. She remembered now that, wdiile the 
meeting-house was thronged with eager and anxious 
listeners, and sometimes Mr. Manning was an hour 
in making his way from the pulpit to the door, kept 
back by anxious inquirers, Mercy Fythe was never 
seen in the meeting. Her illness was the excuse 
given; but now, after prayerful thought, Mrs. Man- 
ning decided to go that afternoon to the Fythe Farm, 
and to seek to discover from Mercy herself what it 
was that kept her back from full sympathy with the 
good work that was rejoicing the hearts of all the 
Lord’s people. 

The waves of the Bay were tossing under the gusty 
March winds, but a warm sun peeped through the 
flying clouds, and already woods and fields were 
awakening under the influence of the unusually early 
spring. Several times before she reached the Farm 
she doubted her ability to do any good. 

have three times been told that Mercy was not 
strong enough to see me, or was trying to sleep; — • 
and, even if I should see her, what can I say ? I 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


351 


shall probably sit for an hour chatting to Dorothy 
and to Mistress Rodman, and then return home after 
having wasted my afternoon.^’ 

Her doubts were soon set at rest, for Penelope 
opened the door and without any hesitation, at once 
led the way to the kitchen where Mercy sat listlessly 
at work over a mending basket. Sophy and Dorothy 
had gone out, and Penelope, rejoicing in her wise 
little heart that her aunt could not avoid meeting this 
kind friend, soon slipped way and left them together. 

Instead of comments upon Mercy’s health, Mrs. 
Manning soon turned the conversation on matters that 
had been absorbing the attention of her husband and 
herself, and before Mercy knew it she was listening 
with eagerness to the account of Dr. Manning’s visit 
to Philadelphia the preceding autumn, and the efforts 
then made in behalf of the Baptists. 

have heard little of church matters during the 
last few months,” said Mercy, “ but I heard Sophy 
say, that Nathanael did all he could to aid the mem- 
bers of the Chelmsford congregation who were taxed 
so unjustly two years ago.” 

^^Ah, that was dropped,” said Mrs. Manning. 
^^One case came to trial and went in favor of the 
Baptists, but owing to some illegality in form they 
were obliged to pay part of’ the costs ; and the other 
cases were not brought up at all. This had its share in 


352 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


causing resolutions to be adopted at the next meeting 
of the Association to send in no more certificates, and 
to protest against the requiring of them. But I fear 
that Mr. John Adams spoke only too truly at the meet- 
ing in Carpenter’s Hall, in Philadelphia, last October. 
That was when my husband presented the memorial 
in behalf of civil and religious freedom, in which the 
op})ressions endured by Massachusetts’ Baptists were 
recounted. Mr. Adams then said that ^ they might as 
well turn the heavenly bodies out of their annual and 
diurnal courses as the people of Massachusetts at the 
present day from their Meeting House and Sunday 
laws.’ Nothing satisfactory was obtained ; but the 
right will surely prevail in the end.” 

I cannot feel that,” said Mercy wearily as she 
toyed with the balls of darning cotton in her basket. 

I think that Satan gains more power.” 

He gains more power over those who court him,” 
said Mrs. Manning ; not over those who resist him.” 

If after all our strongest resistance matters go worse 
and worse,” said Mercy in low tones, “ what can we 
think? If you tried hard to save one whom you 
loved, and even did wrong yourself to benefit the soul 
of another — ^yet the toils of the Evil One appeared 
only to fiisten the closer — ^?” She stopped as if half 
afraid to go on lest she should say too much. 

Mrs. Manning felt that she was groping blindly as 


1^5 COLONIAL DAYS. 


353 


to the real cause of Mercy’s trouble; but she answered 
steadily. 

If we oiFer the best resistance, we shall surely sue-, 
ceed. Our Captain leads his men, not to defeat, but 
to victory, as long as they follow him. But if we do 
wrong to benefit the soul of another, are we not cut- 
ting ourselves off from our Leader and trying, like 
straggling skirmishers, to fight single-handed against 
an overwhelming force ?” 

Mercy made no reply, and Mrs. Manning con- 
tinued : 

Your question made me think of a remark that a 
young man, who had recently arrived from England, 
and was stoj)ping with Mr. Nicholas Brown last 
autumn, made to my husband. He said that the Bap- 
tists ought in their own interests to try to heal the 
breaches between the colonies and the mother country, 
since it was to the King they looked for protection from 
their fellow Christians here. He added lightly, H sup- 
pose you would rather pay the four-penny tax on tea 
than the same tax on your religious privileges as, I take 
it, you now do in Massachusetts Province.’ My hus- 
band replied that it was a matter of principle, not of 
individual interest; and that wrong-doing in secular 
matters would never establish right in matters of 
religion.” 

But if the wrong is done and you have no means 
X 


354 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


of righting it?’’ asked Mercy in the same half unwill- 
ing tone, as she ran her needle in and out of the ball 
‘of darning cotton. 

We must do the best that lies in our power to avoid 
any other slip, we must hold more closely to the great 
Captain of our salvation,” replied Mrs. Manning; 
‘‘our life is a training; not a mere succession of spas- 
modic acts, some good, some bad. If at some point 
we have failed, it was because that point was ill 
guarded. We must watch and pray. If we sit re- 
pining with folded hands, the Evil One will surely dis- 
cover another weak point, and make a fresh assault, 
while we are unprepared.” 

Mercy’s answer was prevented by the entrance of 
Dorothy and Sophy, and the conversation became gen- 
eral. But as Mrs. Manning rose to take leave Mercy 
found a moment to say: 

“ I thank you kindly for your words. I have been 
sorely beset. At times it seemed that both heart and 
faith entirely failed me.” 

“Thus was it with the disciples on tlie Sea of Gali- 
lee when their blessed Lord was with them in the 
boat,” said Mrs. Manning. “But remember, dear, 
that weakness of body has much to do with distress 
of mind. Your duty now is to gain strength and to 
work for the Master as you are able, without over- 
much thought and questioning.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 


MERCY COMFORTS SOPHY. 

"VTRS. MANNING’S kind and judicious words left 
^ Mercy much food for thought, and the closing 
advice restrained her from giving way to her impulse 
to seek her own chamber to think over her short- 
comings and weep over her mistakes. On the con- 
trary, she remained in the kitchen and for the first 
time began to inquire with some show of interest how 
Dorothy and Sophy had passed the afternoon. 

We went to see Keziah Crane,” replied Dorothy. 
^^Her lame knee has kept her from many of the meet- 
ings this winter, and a little neighborly chat cheers 
her. Her niece, Waitstill, has received of this blessed 
outpouring of the Holy Spirit, and truly I have 
never seen a more happy frame of mind than the 
young maiden manifests. She is to be baptized 
shortly with several others who have found peace in 
the blessed Saviour.” 

It struck Mercy, for the first time, that Sophy 
looked pale and harassed, and that the dark eyes, 
formerly so bright and merry, looked as though tears 

lay very near the surface. She thought also that 

355 


356 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


Dorothy always had a particular dislike for Keziah 
Crane, who was a shiftless housekeeper, and withal 
prone to talk much of her religious experience. As 
Dorothy once sharply expressed it: 

would that her religion was less in her feelings 
and more in her fingers. I have no patience with 
people who have no capacity.’’ 

' To have gone willingly to have a neighborly chat 
with Keziah showed a marked change in Dorothy, 
and Mercy recalled now how much more gentle and 
considerate her sister was than in former days. 

She continued to talk and show interest in the news 
they brought, and even tried to help in preparing sup- 
per. This however was forbidden her, and indeed 
she was still too weak to be of any assistance in house- 
hold work. 

But Dorothy’s grave face brightened as she saw 
her sister’s return to life and interest in what sur- 
rounded her, and Sophy ventured upon little caresses 
in a timid, wistful manner, that did more than words 
to show Mercy how she had been selfishly shut up in 
her own trouble, heedless of their anxieties and their 
affection. 

Indeed, something in Sophy’s expression troubled 
her, and after she had gone up to her room she lay 
awake thinking over many things in the new light of 
an humble resolution to put away her own selfish 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 357 

sorrow, and to seek comfort in doing the work that 
lay nearest to her. 

The room occupied by Sophy was next to hers, 
and Mercy’s ear caught a sound very like hushed 
crying. In Nathanael’s absence, Penelope’s little cot 
had been moved into Sophy’s room, and, fearing that 
the little girl was ailing, Mercy got up and went to 
the door. 

Penelope,” she called softly, ^Svhat is the matter, 
dear?” 

To her surprise the door opened, and Sophy’s 
figure, wrapped in a flannel dressing-gown, stood 
before her, faintly visible against the dim light from 
the window. 

Oh, how imprudent ! Mercy, dear, you should 
not have left your bed,” she exclaimed in low tones, 
that showed that Penelope was still asleep, and that 
she feared to waken her. 

Mercy was so startled by the sudden conviction 
that it was Sophy who had been weeping, that she 
knew not what to say, and allowed herself to be led 
back to her own room in silence. 

But as Sophy helped her into her bed again and 
arranged the pillows with tender solicitude, she 
caught her hands and whispered : 

Sophy, is it I who have caused you this sorrow ? 
Oh, forgive me. I have been sadly and heedlessly 


358 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


selfish. But the worst, I trust, is over now; and, 
God helping me, I will live better in future.’’ 

No, no, sweetheart, do not blame yourself,” said 
Sophy with an attempt at her usual bright cheerful- 
ness; but it failed sadly. In another moment, as 
Mercy tried to draw her towards her, she buried her 
face in her hands and wept bitterly. 

^Mt is all my own fault, my own perverse self-will,” 
she said in half-smothered tones. But that does not 
make it any easier. We were so happy before. All 
the troubles only came and went like flitting clouds. 
Now all is dark as night.” 

Sophy,” exclaimed Mercy, a sudden perception 
flashing on her mind, ^^does Nathanael know that you 
tried to persuade me not to go to Douglas Folinsbee’s 
on that afternoon ? ” 

Oh, yes ; I told him replied Sophy wearily 

with a slight emphasis on the last word, which showed 
very clearly that this last attempt at a stand availed 
as little in his estimation as it had in the actual course 
of events. 

There was a pause, broken only by Sophy’s long- 
drawn sobs, as she tried to check her tears. Mercy 
was much distressed; she could offer no advice or 
consolation, for she well knew how Sophy idolized 
Nathanael ; and she herself stood in no little awe 
of her grave and resolute brother. She could only 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


359 


pass her liand gently over the bowed head with its 
disheveled curls that lay on her pillow and whisper: 

God permits the trials, and he will bring the 
comfort.’’ 

‘^Yes, to you, Mercy, for you are his child.- But 
not to me,” moaned Sophy. What have I ever done 
to serve him? I thought I was good and wise, but I 
am nothing but a castaway. I see it all now.” 

Hush, hush, dear !” cried Mercy. ^‘You meant 
no harm ; it was only a mistake.” 

Is it nothing to have called myself a Christian 
when I scarcely thought of Christ, to have come 
again and again to his table with thoughts wandering 

o o o o 

on trivial matters? Oh, it is dreadful to think how 
blind and conceited I have been ! ” 

She lifted her head and flung back the hair from 
her face, with an impatient and almost despairing 
gesture. 

But, Sophy dear, if we have wandered, we must 
return, and cling closer to our Leader,” said Mercy, 
the words of the conversation of the afternoon rising 
naturally to her lips. ^^He is merciful and just to 
forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all un- 
righteousness.” 

Yes, you can say that ; but I have been always 
wrong. Even my baptism and my confirmation, which 
I supposed ensured my safety, were only disobedience 


360 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


to his commands,” answered Sophy. ^^And then to 
think of my proposal to join the Baptist Church ! 
No wonder Nathanael was shocked.” 

^‘You did not understand, dear. You did not 
think how much more it means to us when we unite 
with the church,” said Mercy who, although much 
startled at first, was now chiefly intent on soothing 
Sophy’s passionate self-reproaches. 

No, no, do not try to deceive me,” cried Sophy. 

ought to have known, and I ought to have 
thought. Of course, at my baptism, Avhen my god- 
fathers and god-mothers promised for me, I knew 
nothing ; but afterwards I took those vows upon my- 
self ; there is no excuse for me that I was so careless 
and heedless after that.” 

But, sweetheart, you are thinking now, and our 
loving Saviour waits to pardon and receive those who 
truly seek him,” replied Mercy. “He is gracious 
and full of compassion.” 

In her own heart she was wondering whether it 
was quite right to offer consolation yet; she knew 
that many said that long repentance should follow 
upon years of carelessness; and some indeed seemed 
to feel that the stability and the measure of grace 
accorded to a redeemed soul depended much upon the 
depth of despair and misery through which the light 
of the Divine Presence had been reached. This was 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


361 


entirely contrary to Mercy’s mild and gentle nature, 
and it was a great comfort to her that Dr. Manning’s 
teachings were not of that stamp. 

‘‘Yes,” replied Sophy; “I have heard that often at 
the meetings which I have been able to attend. But 
don’t you see that is just what makes it so hard?” 

“Why should it be hard to understand?” said 
Mercy, not clearly comprehending her meaning. 
“You do not find it hard to trust an earthly love, 
to believe that Nathanael loves you.” 

“It is not that,” answered Sophy, and by tliis 
time she had checked her tears and spoke in a quieter 
voice, but with an inexpressibly dreary and hopeless 
ring in it. “I know that. But oh, can’t you see, 
when I have been carelessly and thoughtlessly wrong 
all the time, how can I ever show that I love ? Will 
Nathanael ever again believe that I love him? ” She 
stopped suddenly with a break in her voice, but the 
pathetic intensity of the hopeless cry drove all doubt 
and fear from Mercy’s mind. 

“Of course he will,” she exclaimed with emphatic 
and unhesitating decision, as she threw both arms 
about the little trembling figure beside her. “It is 
only a mist that will pass away. And, Sophy darling, 
there are no mists before God’s sight. He sees us 
and our inmost thoughts more clearly than we see 
ourselves.” 


362 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


“Do you really think that?’’ asked Sophy, a faint 
tone of encouragement audible in her voice. “ I do 
care very, very much, and ever since you came home 
I have been reading the Bible constantly to find out 
exactly what I ought to do. But I could find so 
little.” 

“Do you still think that the sprinkling of infants 
is the baptism that Jesus commanded?” asked Mercy. 

“No, I cannot find that,” replied Sophy. 

“Then is not the command clear, ^Believe and be 
baptized?”’ continued Mercy. 

“Yes, but before that,” said Sophy urgently; 
“what can I do? I could not just follow Nathanael 
to Haverhill, or wherever he is now, without having 
first done something to show him that I wdll never, 
nefver again do anything to vex him.” 

Poor Sophy’s ardent, loving heart was stronger 
than her head, and seeing that, like a child, she 
grasped at heavenly things through her strongest 
earthly affection, Mercy answered quickly: 

“Would you wait for that if he sent for you?” 

“Oh, no,” exclaimed Sophy, almost indignantly; 
then, as Mercy’s meaning flashed upon her, she raised 
her head from the pillow in which she had hid it in 
her misery, and sat silently thinking. 

Mercy who was willing to let her words take effect, 
and who also began to feel her own weakness, let her- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


363 


self sink back against tlie pillows, and Sophy roused 
by the movement, exclaimed with compunction: 

^^Yoii are weary. You ought to have been asleep 
long ere now. Even when I mean well, I do ill.’^ 
Which of us can say otherwise,’’ whispered 
]\Iercy sadly, but at the next moment she roused 
herself to give a kiss to the face bending anxiously 
over her. 

Sophy understood the thought that lay beneath 
these words, and as she drew the curtains around 
Mercy’s pillow and went softly back to her own 
I’oom, a warm and loving sympathy had taken the 
place of her former misery. And Mercy, although 
undoubtedly exhausted by their talk, felt a peace to 
Avhich she had long been a stranger. 

Each of the two women laid her head on her 
pillow that night sympathizing in the trials and the 
failings of the other; and both were humbly drawing 
nearer to the one Friend, who is ever ready to help 
the faltering steps and to pour balm on bruised hearts. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


THE FIRST GUN OF THE REVOLUTION. 

!HE work of grace that began in the town of 



“*■ Providence during that memorable winter, 
formed an epoch that would never be effaced from 
the minds of those who Avitnessed it. Dr. Manning’s 
church Avas largely increased and, as he himself said, 
he had neither time, nor indeed inclination to attend 
to more than the most imperatively necessary secular 
matters. In the College the interest was very great. 
Often Dr. Manning would go to the recitation-room 
and find nearly all the students assembled there join- 
ing in prayer and praise to God ; and he would be met 
with the request that, instead of the usual lecture on 
Philosophy, or on Logic, he Avould speak to them of 
the things concerning the kingdom of God. 

In the course of about six months he baptized 
more than one hundred converts, and among that 
number, in the early days of spring, Avere Mistress 
Sophy Rodman and her daughter Penelope. 

Shortly after the talk with Mercy, Sophy timidly 
expressed a desire to speak Avith Dr. Manning. The 
good pastor, after a long conversation Avith her, in 


364 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


365 


which he learoed not only of her own faith and love, 
but also of Penelope’s feelings and desires, urged 
strongly that they should both come forward for 
baptism. 

Sophy with a natural desire to have her husband’s 
approval and his presence at such an important step 
in her life, was inclined to delay until his return, but 
she owned that she did not know when to expect him, 
nor even exactly where a letter would reach him. In 
view of the alarming state of public affairs, and the 
generally unsettled condition of the country. Dr. Man- 
ning advised that there should be no unnecessary delay. 

While nowhere throughout the colonies was the 
question of separation from the mother country advo- 
cated ; yet such occurrences as the burning of the 
Gaspee in June, 1772 ; and, eighteen months later, in 
December, 1773, the scene in Boston Harbor, when 
three hundred and forty chests of tea were emptied 
into the bay, showed clearly the temper of the people; 
and no one of ordinary intelligence could regard the 
present strained relations with other than the greatest 
apprehension. A rope must break somewhere during 
this severe storm of party spirit and intolerance, and 
then whither would the gallant ship be tossed? That 
the colonists would really be forced to take to the boat 
was not clearly foreseen by any one, until the bright 
morning sun of the nineteenth of April shone down 


366 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


upon the minute-men steadily marching to the defense 
of Concord Bridge. 

The British troops had quietly sallied forth from 
Boston the night before to seize the cannon and 
ammunition of the colonists at Concord. But their in- 
tention could not be kept secret from the vigilant and 
determined men who, under the orders of Warren, 
were watching their every movement. 

The beacon light streaming from the tower of the 
old North Church at Boston, the hurrying hoof beats, 
that were speeding William Dawes through Roxbury, 
and Paul Revere by way of Charleston to Lexington, 
carried warning to all that were along the route to 
Concord. Everywhere the minute-men assembled, the 
alarm spread and the British troops advanced. 

When the sun rose and wakened the robin and the 
bluebird with its almost summer-like warmth, its 
rays sparkled on the wet grass of Lexington Com- 
mon; but the answering gleam of red was reflected 
from no morning dewdrops. Sixteen of the sixty or 
seventy men, drawn up there before break of day, lay 
dead or wounded under the British volley fired upon 
them. Still the colonists had committed no open act 
of rebellion. A few scattered shots had been fired 
after their leader had called to them to disband and 
retire from what was merely a field of murder; but 
they were ineffective and not premeditated. 


IN CX)LONIAL DAYS. 


367 


It was not until noon of the same morning, after 
the British had in vain rifled Concord in search of 
military stores, which had been hurriedly removed 
and concealed, and when the minute-men, marching 
to the assistance of their friends in the town, found 
the British hastily taking up the planks of the bridge 
across the Concord, while smoke was rising from the 
town of which the rest held possession, that the deci- 
sive moment came. Even then, excited as they were, 
they were still British subjects; but when a volley 
met their advance, and companions fell beside them, 
the word was given and Major John Buttrick, of 
Concord, turning towards them shouted : 

Fire, fellow-soldiers, for God’s sake fire ! ” 

As the sharp reports of the flint-locks rang out on 
the warm noonday air two British soldiers fell dead, 
several were wounded, and the civil w^ar had begun. 

The rest of that day, until the setting sun gleamed 
redly on the survivors of the British troops escaping 
across the Neck to Boston, was filled with the horrors 
of war. The Americans hurrying ahead, ambushed 
in small bauds at every available point and picked off 
the British soldiers. They, in revenge, exasperated 
by the contest with this melting and illusive enemy 
burned and rifled houses, and ill-treated and murdered 
the helpless inmates. The troops sent out by Gage to 
aid the retreating party fared as badly as their com- 


368 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


rades. The record of that memorable day gave 
eighty-eight of the Americans killed, wounded, and 
missing, while the much vaunted regulars’^ had lost 
two hundred and seventy-three. 

When the awful news reached Providence, an 
earthquake could not have more utterly transformed 
the whole town. Nothing else was in every mind, on 
every tongue. 

Then, indeed, Sophy recognized the kind wisdom 
of Dr. Manning’s resolute advice to her to let no 
earthly consideration hold her back from the duty to 
her Heavenly Lord and Master. The assured feeling 
tliat she and Penelope were indeed gathered into the 
Lord’s earthly fold was an untold comfort and sup- 
port to her in the severe anxiety and suspense in store 
for her; and, also, in another way she saw the risk 
that might be incurred by delay. 

Reuben, since his illness, had been keenly alive to 
religious influence, and during the winter he had 
attended the meetings, as far as a natural shrinking 
from the questioning glances of old neighbors and 
friends would allow; but this feeling of soreness over 
his escapade and the sorry figure he made at his 
return held him back from any open avowal of his 
feelings. It was not until after Penelope’s baptism, 
that he seriously spoke of his desire to unite with the 
church; and before he had finally decided, this over- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


369 


whelming news came to sweep for awhile all other 
thoughts into the background. 

His whole being chafed against suspense and in- 
action, and his chief desire was to ride off at once 
under pretext of seeking for news of his uncle, and 
thus to push his way to the forefront of danger. 

This time his mother made no effort to hold him 
back. The news of Lexington sweeping over the 
whole country as rapidly as smoking, foam-flecked 
steeds could travel, or beacon-lights could flash the 
tidings, found response not alone among those who 
seized flint-lock and bullet-bag, and hurried to the 
rendezvous at Cambridge, but it found equally brave 
hearts beating under the kerchief of matron and 
maiden, who spoke words of cheer and watched with 
resolute mien and prayerful resignation, as their 
nearest and dearest hastened to the awful risks of the 
battle-field. 

Sophy for the moment was bewildered and crushed. 

^^Oh, Eeuben,’’ she cried, ^‘you cannot leave us! 
Did you say the men of Chelmsford were out? Oh, 
I trust Nathanael is at Haverhill. You must stay 
with us till he comes.’^ 

But Dorothy reached him his powder-flask with 
hands that did not tremble, and her voice was steady 
as she said in low and quiet tones : 

‘‘Go, my lad. May the God of our fathers bless 
Y 


370 


IN COLONIAL BAYS. 


and keep thee. It is the cause of justice and of right. 
And he will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.’^ 

The strong and steady courage of the old Puritans 
shone in her eyes, and for the time surpassed even the 
daring spirit and the traditional bravery of the race of 
theBeatouns. But Sophy was no coward, and through- 
out the long and trying days that followed, she bore 
herself nobly. If the fire of patriotism and the love 
of freedom did not glow as strongly in her bosom; 
and if she could not, like Dorothy, have resolutely 
sent forth her dearest — she could and did cling with 
humble, childlike faith to her newly-found trust and 
hope* and each night as she prayed for her husband’s 
safety, she added through her tears the petition that 
she might prove herself a brave and true-hearted wife. 

The blow fell the most severely on Mercy. For 
Arthur’s name flashed at once to her mind, and the 
terrible fear lest he should meet with Nathanael or 
Beuben in deadly conflict made her heart for the 
moment stand still. But outwardly she was as calm 
and as steadily self-possessed as her sister. 

Sophy’s hope that Nathanael was at Haverhill 
would really have availed little. She did not com- 
prehend when she expressed it, how thoroughly the 
whole country was roused. 

Before noon of the nineteenth, the news of Lexing- 
ton had reached Haverhill, and men were marching out 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


371 


to join their companions at Concord. And on the twen- 
tieth, bands of New Hampshire farmers were cross- 
ing Haverhill ferry, on their way to the scene of action. 

Nathanael was, in fact, at Chelmsford still occupied 
with business relating to the sale of his farm. He 
had been at Haverhill and had dated thence a letter 
to Sophy, which she received at the time that she 
was preparing for her baptism. It was very short, 
and through it all ran the same tone of constraint, 
although he made no allusion to the past. Sophy 
had a very doleful cry over it, and then she sat down 
and penned a long and loving epistle telling him of 
the step which she and Penelope were about to take. 
This letter she directed to him at Mr. Hezekiah 
Smith’s, in Haverhill, and there it was still, lying 
in his desk awaiting Nathanael’s arrival, or some in- 
formation as to where it could be forwarded to him. 

Nathanael had marched out with the Chelmsford 
men, and through the whole of that long day his had 
been one of the coolest and most resolute heads. The 
bitterness that had rankled in his heart ever since he 
had learned that Sophy had been aiding in the scheme 
to deceive him, caused him to hail with fierce eager- 
ness this lawful method of giving expression to the 
anger and keen disappointment that were hardening 
into sullen reserve. To Nathanael’s nature, doing 
was much easier than enduring. He could not pre- 


372 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


tend to have forgiven Donny court or to feel towards 
him anything but hatred and aversion. When this 
subject was mentioned at Haverhill, Mr. Smith hav- 
ing made such inquiries as he could without exciting 
curiosity, Nathanael replied shortly: 

^^That matter is ended. Old Goody Folinsbee, the 
only witness, as I understand Mercy’s story, is dead ; 
Rogers is dead; and as for the man himself — well, I 
have not met him yet.” 

^Mf you should meet him, you will remember 
whose you are and whom you serve ; and you will not 
do devil’s work to cause you life-long remorse,” said 
Mr. Smith with quiet decision. 

I make no pretense,” replied Nathanael stubbornly, 
as the dark blood mounted to his contracted forehead. 

If that man stood before me now, I should shoot 
him ; however much I might regret it afterwards.” 

You speak your own words,” replied Mr. Smith; 
^^and you forget that you have given yourself to One 
who will never let his own slip out of his grasp. If 
the trial comes you will hear his command.” 

The words struck Nathanael strangely; the conver- 
sation changed, but his passion abated as he tried to 
grasp their full meaning. Failing in this attempt, he 
returned to his sullen brooding, and until the nine- 
teenth of April dawned, Donnycourt was never long 
out of his thoughts. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


373 


The tumult and excitement of that memorable day, 
for the first time caused him to forget all private 
grievances, and his thoughts, or rather feelings — for 
in such a turmoil men had little time for thought — 
were wholly absorbed in the great question of the 
stand against oppression and tyranny. 

Late in the afternoon, just before the British troops, 
fagged and exhausted, were met by their comrades 
sent from Boston to their assistance, Nathanael and 
several others had gained a vantage point whence 
they leveled their muskets at the advancing and strag- 
gling column of regulars. The Americans were good 
marksmen, and, as the enemy approached, the muzzle 
of each musket covered its man. There was a pro- 
longed flash like forked lightning, and a succession of 
reports rang out. No one noticed that NathanaeFs 
musket was silent. But when the answering shots 
whistled by and the smoke trailed off, his comrades, 
who were busily re-loading under shelter of a stone 
wall, saw him stoop to pick up a lock of hair that had 
fallen beside him. 

close shave that, Rodman,’’ said one of them. 

^^Very close,” replied Nathanael as he coolly laid 
the lock in his pocket-book. And only himself knew 
that his words had a double meaning. 

Just as he was about to fire the red-coated figure 
turned directly towards him, and under the sweat 


374 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


and dust and powder grime he distinctly recognized 
the face of Arthur Dounycourt. This was the meet- 
ing he had often contemplated, and now the bullet 
might be sped in honest war and for a just cause ; but 
this unexpected sight of the man haggard, worn, dis- 
heveled, gasping for breath, struggling for life, caused 
Nathauaebs finger to drop from the trigger. 

I will not make a just battle an excuse for aveng- 
ing private wrong/’ he said to himself, and when the 
bullet whistled through his hair — not fired by Arthur 
for Nathanael saw, before the smoke hid him, that 
he held his sword in his right hand — he saw in an in- 
stant how near he had been to ending his days in the 
very act of gratifying his hatred. A sudden rush of 
thankfulness came over him. 

There was no time then to indulge in thought or 
feeling ; but afterwards, when Nathanael looked back 
on that day, he found that he could no longer bring 
before his mind the gay, handsome young gallant, 
against whom his anger naturally flamed, but only the 
distressed and hunted fugitive, towards whom a feel- 
ing of compassion involuntarily went forth. Remem- 
bering Mr. Smith’s words, he bowed his head in awe 
and reverently murmured : 

‘^With God all things are possible. Merciful 
Father, ever guard me from myself!” 


7 



•Colonial Dartu 


Page 374 














. i ' • r 


' »; 


.. r 

• 0 



: V 

• 4 r««% • 

S 




? ;v * ■ ' *'*- ■ ' • '. . - ' - 

'*'V>>>V‘-' / , ''- ' .'-\*-it;; • r -> • . ' ' 'c;:. 

V-. •. > ••-■;:.*’ •- • ,vi,. , ••' •. 









?VW. • 

' - <1 





■ c- ‘ ‘''- Vy .-V #A',3 -■’ ■* ’■ ’^'A 

■•;-*; ' — . '. *-■ *^;v ','"4 

-'• • C,. ” ■ •* >>•'•■ ': j .' ■'.*•..] : ' 


- * ><'■ 
-. •. (,»'•*• i>J‘ 

- fe'-^ 


r - 

. T 


.'V- ^ •' , ■ 


■ , V 


• V 


' • I 




‘W • 


'. y 


" -■ UiS*** ■•.' i'" w#« « \r» ^ w» . 

^ . ..-V ••_ , ^ 


i ^ 


;i ^ X 


aL'‘#*i 


* 




♦ 




. • f* A •* ' 




-Vv *•'•' 


# r - 

Ji ■* fc. I 




CHAPTER XXXII. 


DAME TRUEFITT’s ADVICE TO JONATHAIT. 

HE work of gathering and forming an army 



now occupied the Americans, and this was no 
light task. For, while men came in hosts, military 
stores were scarce ; and many of the recruits, pouring 
in from every side, came without gnus, ammunition, 
or even monev. But where courao^e and brains were 
abundant, the work of organization was not likely to 
halt for want of material. 

XathanaeFs time was fully occupied, but he found 
opportunity to write a hasty missive, which after 
sundry delays, found its way to the Fythe Farm and 
to the hands of Mistress Sophy. She wept over this 
letter almost as abundantly as over the preceding one ; 
but from a different cause. These hasty lines spoke 
renewed confidence and love in every straggling 
pencil-stroke, and the enclosed lock of hair was to 
Sophy a more precious token than any that Nathanael 
had given her in the days when he had wooed and won 
her. This was a constant reminder, not only of earthly 
affection, but of the heavenly love and watch-care, that 
had shielded her loved one on that dreadful day. 


375 


376 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


From the tenor of this brief letter Sopliy discov- 
ered that her own had not readied him, and while she 
w^as disturbed that he should have been so long with- 
out tidings of her, there was secret comfort in the 
thought that the words which were so grateful to her 
were prompted entirely by his love. Sophy’s letter 
reached her husband soon after he had despatched his 
owm. It was brought by Mr. Smith, who joined the 
army at Cambridge, and was subsequently present 
wdth the regiment of Colonel Nixon, on the memor- 
able eighteenth of June, wdien the Battle of Bunker 
Hill taught the British what they might expect from 
their despised opponents. At the third Provincial 
Congress in July it was decided that three generals 
and field officers be empowered and directed to choose 
nine gentlemen of the clergy of this colony to act as 
chaplains of the army. Mr. Smith w’as chosen as 
one of the nine, ^^no small honor to our contemned 
church,” wrote Nathanael to his wife in the letter in 
which he announced to her this fact. 

The choice was a happy one, for the zealous soldier 
of Christ, proved himself to be no less a courageous 
patriot. In truth his friend and commander Colonel 
Nixon found it at length necessary to give him special 
orders, in order to hinder him from being in the front 
of danger when the regiment was in battle. 

For a time the town of Providence w’as not in- 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


377 


volved ill the actual turmoil and horrors of war. The 
College continued its routine as far as possible, but it 
was decided to have no public Commencement. The 
graduating class, ten in number, was the largest that 
had yet graduated from the College, but the Com- 
mencement w’as private. The noise of war, however, 
did not hinder the completion of the new Meeting 
House. On the twenty-eighth of May it was opened 
for worship ; and ten days later the tall and graceful 
spire, an addition forbidden to the meeting-houses of 
Dissenters in England, rose complete among the sur- 
rounding elms; and the bell, also forbidden to Eng- 
lish Dissenters, was free to send its melodious sum- 
mons over the city and across the blue waters of the 
Bay. 

Here we have liberty to call men to pray and 
praise, to listen to the message which God has en- 
trusted to us,’^ said Jonathan Pursell, who had come 
down to attend the opening service. “ While there is 
a drop of blood in our veins we will not give up to 
the hand that w^ould silence our tongues, and strike 
down that heavenward pointing finger.’’ 

Sophy smiled at the quaint conceit, but they all 
felt that he spoke the truth. Though the beginning 
at Concord was small, the results stretched away in- 
definitely into the future. In those first days of June, 
while in Providence the heavenward pointing spire 


378 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


was being raised, in Philadelphia the Continental 
Congress undertook to borrow six thousand pounds — 
about twenty-five thousand dollars — to purchase gun- 
powder for the army before Boston, which had sent 
in vain to every colony in New England to obtain 
powder, and was now nearly destitute. Two weeks 
later this Congress took the important step of elect- 
ing George Washington as Commander-in-Chief of 
what was now designated as the Continental Army. 
On the third of July Washington formally assumed 
the command at Cambridge and resolutely began the 
herculean task of reducing the mass of people in 
arms,’’ into a disciplined, well-appointed, and well- 
officered army. 

The letters that Sophy received from Nathanael 
expressed great satisfaction with the new state of 
affairs. Beuben had succeeded in joining the Rhode 
Island men, and his scanty missives spoke of the high 
esteem in which General Greene and all the Rhode 
Island officers held the new commander. 

Still the sore lack was powder, and one morning 
as Sophy was sitting wearily spinning and drawing a 
sadly uneven thread, because of the great heat and her 
own lassitude, she heard Dorothy busily rummaging 
in Reuben’s room overhead. Presently she came 
down with a small keg in her hand. 

^‘It is powder,” she cried triumphantly. ^^I just 


m COLONIAL DAYS. 


379 


bethought me that Reuben warned me to be careful 
to let no fire come near this keg. Some of it has been 
used, but I will send every grain that is left to Mr. 
John Brown. You know General Washington has 
written to him, and to every one that he thinks can 
aid, to urge them to send on powder.^’ 

Even the smallest quantities were thankfully re- 
ceived and Dorothy’s offering went to the army before 
Boston with all that could be collected in the town 
and the neighboring country. 

Nine months of tedious waiting and training were 
before these brave men. But at length the morn- 
ing of the fifth of March, 1776, dawned and re- 
vealed to the astonished eyes of Howe the forts that 
crowned the heights of Dorchester. The British 
General was overawed, and shortly after ordered the 
evacuation of the city. As Washington’s little army 
watched the long line of transports conveying the 
British troops away from the shores of New England, 
not a man felt inclined to murmur at the long months 
of patient preparation. 

Soon after Washington ordered part of the army 
to New York, and Colonel Nixon’s regiment being 
among those sent, Mr. Hezekiah Smith, as chaplain, 
went to that city, stopping on his way thither at 
Providence, where he lodged with his old friend, 
Mr. Nicholas Brown, and, on the evenings of April 


380 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


second and third, preached from Dr. Manning’s 
pulpit. 

To the desolate women at Fythe’s Farm, it was a 
joy to see and hear once more their revered friend, 
and also to hear from his lips some tidings of their 
loved ones. Both Nathanael and Reuben, he assured 
them, were in good health and endured bravely the 
hardships, as well as the dangers, of their present 
life. They had gone on by sea with their regiments 
to New York, there was thus no prospect of seeing 
them at the Farm ; but it was a comfort to meet with 
a friend who had seen them. 

Poor Mercy during all this time, heard not a word 
of Donnycourt. Neither Nathanael nor Reuben ever 
mentioned his name in their letters. Sophy dared not 
to ask about him when she wrote, as her newly re- 
stored peace was too precious to her to be disturbed 
by indiscreet questionings. Mercy was thankful that 
her hands were too busy to allow much time for re- 
trospect and surmises. Both brain and hands were 
called into requisition, for the sole management of 
both household and farm now fell upon the women, 
and Mercy’s restored health and earnest desire to be 
useful and to spare Dorothy, led her to take far more 
than her share of the extra work. 

It is true that she looked older, but her face had 
lost none of its sweetness, and wore a look of quiet 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


381 


cheerfulness and a steadfastness of expression that led 
old Mother Truefitt to remark to Jonathan Pursell, 
when he came to Providence to be present at the Com- 
mencement in 1776 : 

I wonder that a likely young man, such as you, 
does not take to himself a wife. A minister is in a 
kind of a way but one-armed till he has a good wife 
to help and encourage him.’^ 

That is true,’^ replied Jonathan with quiet good- 
nature ; but it would need to be some one past the 
common who would be willing to aid with our strug- 
gling little church, and to bear with the imperfections 
of its pastor too.” 

I could lay my finger on the very one for you,” 
replied Dame Truefitt ; and you need not go farther 
from here than the Fythe Farm to find as sober- 
minded and gentle spoken a wife as any man need 
wish for.” 

Thank you ; but I fear you have not picked right 
yet. She is growing a fine tall lass, but she is not 
troubling her little head with sweethearts yet ; and 
when the time comes she will not thank you for 
giving her a man twice her age,” and before Dame 
Truefitt had time to explain away the mistake, 
Jonathan had said good-bye,” and turned to speak 
to another old acquaintance. 

There’s manners for you,” growled Dame Truefitt 


382 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


to Waitstill Crane, as she trotted homeward. One 
would think to hear him talk, that yon chit of an 
English girl was the only young maid at the Fythe 
Farm. Jonathan Pursell may have learned grace of 
heart, but he has not learned much grace of speech 
over there in Connecticut.’^ 

How do you know but what he is courting some- 
body down that way,” replied Waitstill. 

^^Well, then he needn’t be so close about it,” 
returned the old woman. But the suggestion molli- 
fied her, and soon found its Avay about the neighbor- 
hood in a more positive form. 

In truth, Jonathan still looked upon Mercy as a 
married woman. He had heard nothing of the 
matter beyond what she had confided to him. She 
met him with a certain degree of stiffness and con- 
straint that he felt, though it was not noticeable to 
others. Mercy could not help feeling that his words 
to her that summer afternoon explained the real 
reason why he was still unmarried, while the con- 
siderate thoughtfulness of his manner towards her on 
the rare occasions when they met contrasted very 
painfully with Dounycourt’s indifference and neglect. 

The summer wore on until the Fourth of July, 
when the Congress assembled in Pliiladelphia issued 
a ^^Declaration” which announced the birth of the 
new Eepublic. But the reports of much sickness in 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


383 


the array caused constant fear and anxiety at Fythe 
Farm; and in August the alarming tidings came 
of the defeat of the Americans on Long Island. 

Soon after this their fears were relieved by a short 
visit from Nathanael, who had been despatched to 
Mr. Brown on business of importance. He brought 
good news of Reuben, who was in good health and 
well regarded by his captain for his steadiness and 
bravery. But he could give no encouragement to the 
hope that Dorothy had cherished of soon seeing her 
son home again. Owing to the untrained condition 
of most of the men who formed the army, and the 
hesitating policy of the Congress, where Washington’s 
advice and urgent appeals were too often unheeded, 
the little army was melting away, and Reuben would 
not stir from his post. 

Every man who stands resolutely by our General 
is of value now,” said Nathanael ; and I honor the 
boy for his decision and right feeling. There is more 
in him than I thought. This madcap son of yours, 
Dorothy, will yet become the pride of his family.” 

It was not in Dorothy’s breast alone that these 
words awakened a glow of pride. If Nathanael had 
looked in the face of the tall, slender lassie standing 
before the big spinning-wheel he might have noted a 
glad light in the thoughtful brown eyes, and a flush 
of pleasure glowing in the pretty sun-burned face. 


384 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


But Penelope was still at the age when she was not 
expected to proffer unasked-for remarks in the pres- 
ence of her elders, and she twirled the wheel in silence. 

NathanaePs mission brooked of no delay. He 
could only speak words of cheer, and then ride off 
again, commending the little family to the tender 
mercies of the One, who alone could strengthen them 
to meet bravely all the uncertainties of the approach- 
ing winter. 

A few months later, when the December winds 
came roaring up the Bay, the tide of war reached their 
threshold. Sir Peter Parker, the British commander, 
with seventy men-of-war anchored in Newport harbor 
and took possession of the town. This occurred on 
Saturday, December seventh, and on the following 
Tuesday, President Manning dismissed the students 
at the College until the end of the next spring vaca- 
tion; and the College building, that had been raised 
with such pains and supported with such devoted zeal, 
became the barracks for the American troops that 
now filled the town. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


MERCY AGAIN MEETS DONNYCOUKT. 

IV T ORE than three years have passed over the old 
Fythe Farm, and again the May sunlight is 
gleaming on the rippling waters of the lovely Xarra- 
gansett Bay, whose restless waves, ever changing yet 
ever the same, form a striking contrast to the shores 
that they wash. 

The once beautiful islands which it encircles, the 
towns and villages on its banks, all bear the marks 
of the desolating war that for three long years has 
burned and wasted their loveliness — as fierce and un- 
governed passions will ruin the beauty of the human 
countenance. 

The beautiful Rhode Island rises bare and bleak; 
only one old sycamore remains of all the wealth of 
forest that clothed her in sylvan loveliness; and 
ruined and blackened walls and desolated corn fields 
stand as mute witnesses of the miseries that these 
years of horror and of want have brought upon her 
people. Yet there is brightness still in some of the 

households where so lately famine and distress have 

385 


386 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


peered through the window, or even taken their grim 
stand by the hearthstone. 

At the old Fythe Farm are thankful and happy 
hearts, as again the unbroken circle is gathered under 
the old roof tree. And there is even deeper feeling 
than the thankfulness for dangers averted and trials 
overpast. 

Eeuben has returned, not only in safety, but with 
the honors that Nathanael had foretold. And, most 
joyful tidings of all to the mother’s heart, these years 
of turmoil and warfare during which many had for- 
gotten the things of God, or grown neglectful of them, 
have led him to closer aud more devout allegiance to 
the Great Captain. His first desire on returning to 
Providence was that he might be baptized, and it was 
with joy that the good pastor received into the church 
this young man, of whom he had often thought with 
anxiety and regret, as he earnestly strove with the 
coldness and indifference to spiritual things which 
deadened the life of the church during the years of 
the war. 

Already, in the short breathing space that had been 
given them since the British evacuated Rhode Island, 
steps had been taken to re-open the College, and 
President Manning, at a meeting of the Corporation, 
was authorized to begin again the work of instruction, 
lie undertook the task with the brave energy that he 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


387 


had always shown in his work, although, owing to 
the scarcity of the times, his former slender salary of 
one hundred pounds was now reduced to sixty pounds 
— about three hundred dollars. 

Ah, times have changed since first Mr. President 
opened that Seminary,’’ said Dorothy, as she fondly 
stroked her son’s hand while he sat beside her. I 
was wise in my own conceit and ready to shape the 
world both for myself and for others ; but now I am 
thankful to take it as the Almighty sends it to me.” 

Well, mother, you have had little comfort from 
me all these years; but although the future is dark 
enough yet, I trust with God’s help, to give you 
cause to be proud of me for something else than 
fighting,” said Reuben, and while he pressed his 
mother’s hand his glance wandered to a graceful 
form flitting about in the twilight, on household 
thoughts intent, and he thought he saw an encour- 
aging light in Penelope’s dark eyes. 

A figure darkening the door- way put a stop to the 
conversation, and Jonathan Pursell entered. It was 
long since he had been in Providence, and warm and 
eager greetings met him; but his look was thoughtful 
and preoccupied, and he immediately asked for a few 
words in private with Nathanael. They withdrew 
together and Mercy hastened to lay another pewter 
plate; for though the fare was simple and even scanty. 


388 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


the hospitality of heart was unbounded. Penelope 
had gone out to milk and Reuben also had disap- 
peared. Sophy helped to arrange the supper-table, 
while Dorothy sat in the chimney corner over the 
blazing sticks that were still a necessity for her rheu- 
matic knees in the early spring evenings. 

Suddenly NathanaePs face appeared at the door 
and he called to Sophy. Something in his tone and 
the slight glimpse that she caught of his grave face 
startled Mercy ; but she quietly continued her task. 
She cast an apprehensive glance at the faces of the 
three, as they came in and took their places at the 
supper-table, but it told her nothing. They certainly 
looked graver than usual, and Sophy was so much 
preoccupied that her maternal eye failed to note a 
certain absent-minded shyness in Penelope, till she 
was roused by an exclamation from Dorothy as the 
usually deft-fingered maiden nearly cut her finger 
instead of the loaf of bread which stood opposite to 
her. 

^^Let me do that,’’ said Reuben, coming to her 
assistance, with a subdued twinkle in his eyes, while 
Penelope colored furiously and gave up the knife to 
him with a glance half chiding, half deprecating. 

But no one heeded this little by-play, and the 
reason for the preoccupation was not explained until 
they all rose from the table and Sophy gently drew 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


389 


Mercy’s arm through her own and carried her off 
up-stairs. 

Something has happened, Sophy ; tell me,” said 
Mercy, trembling in spite of her effort to retain per- 
fect self-control. ^^athanael and Reuben are here 
and well. It is not ... it cannot be 

“ Yes, sweetheart,” replied Sophy gently, I see 
you have divined what I have to tell you. There is 
one who wishes to see you.” 

To see me ! Oh no, no, that cannot, cannot be ! ” 
exclaimed Mercy. 

Wait till you hear all, dear, then you shall decide,” 
said Sophy. He has been wounded and ill. In- 
deed, he is very ill now.” 

Where is he?” asked Mercy in low tones, avert- 
ing her face. 

^^Mr. Pursell accompanied him to Abner Drew’s, 
where he now lies,” replied Sophy. You will go to 
him, dear?” 

^^Give me time to think. Do not urge me now. I 
will tell you in the morning,” said Mercy. 

Sophy could not understand this shrinking on 
Mercy’s part. She fancied that at the thought of 
Arthur ill and penitent, all the old affection would 
have been aroused in Mercy’s heart. She herself was 
deeply touched by Jonathan’s account, and she could 
not put herself fully in the place of the young girl. 


390 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


who had been led by her trustfulness into bitter 
trouble, and then had been left to bear the slow misery 
of feeling herself forgotten and neglected. If Arthur 
had quarreled with her, she would have waited and 
hoped always for a reconciliation; but this careless 
neglect, followed by the spasmodic revival of lover- 
like warmth in his appeal to her at Haverhill, and the 
subsequent relapse into indifference had cut at the very 
root of her love. She saw the surprise in Sophy^s 
face, and suddenly exclaimed passionately : 

‘^Oh, can you not see? He never cared for me. I 
was only a pretty woman who took his fancy. And 
I, who thought that we could help and raise each 
other ! Oh, Sophy, it degrades me in my own eyes, 
that I should ever have attracted him ! ” She broke 
down and wept bitterly. 

Sophy vainly tried to soothe her. At last Mercy 
with an effort recovered herself, and said wearily : 

“ I should not give way. I thought I had trained 
myself to more control. Forget what I have said. 
I will give you an answer in the morning.’’ 

Jonathan Pursell does not think that he will live 
till morning,” replied Sophy. 

She had feared to say this sooner ; but now she saw 
that it must be told ; and she even thought rather bit- 
terly that it might be a relief to Mercy to know it. 
Sophy could not forget the bright, boyish companion 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


391 


of her girlhood. She had older memories, and be- 
sides she had none of the recent wrongs that filled 
Mercy’s mind. But she was again surprised as Mercy 
exclaimed, in awe-stricken tones : 

What ! Oh, Sophy, may God forgive me if I 
have delayed too long ! Quick, dear, help me to get 
ready. If I could say one word to bring peace to his 
soul ! He will listen now, and not think of me. 
But have I delayed too long?” 

Her impatience was almost feverish, and she could 
hardly listen to Sophy’s assurance that she had really 
caused no delay. 

Jonathan’s horse was tied ready saddled at the 
door; he offered it to Nathanael. It took but little 
time to adjust the pillion, and soon Nathanael and 
Mercy were cantering rapidly away through the deep- 
ening twilight, while Jonathan, sad at heart and too 
restless to remain with his friends, walked slowly 
after, 

Jonathan had not told them that Arthur was 
wounded in one of those attacks made by the British 
on the houses and villages of the mainland, when 
houses were wantonly pillaged and burned, without 
even the excuse of advancing the actual warfare. 
His health had been already severely affected by the 
terrible cold of the winter of 1778, 1779. During that 
winter occurred the frightful storm known through- 


392 


IX COLON I AI. DAYS. 


out Rhode Island as the Hessian storm ’’ because so 
many of these foreigners, hired to fight for the British, 
perished in it. Guards were frozen at their posts; 
neither man nor beast could stand against the blind- 
ing, suffocating snow that filled the air and blocked 
the roads. 

Donnycourt had never been wont to pay much heed 
to health; and the effect of a comparatively slight 
wound comino; after the sufferings of that winter was 
Such as to throw him into a fever, in which his life 
was despaired of ; and when the British troops evacu- 
ated the Island he lay at the point of death in the 
house of one of his Tory friends. 

Through all the fevered fancies of delirium, he was 
haunted with the thought of Mercy ; and when at last 
he recovered sufficiently to drag himself out into the 
sunlight, he determined before making an attempt to 
get sick leave and to return to England, that he would 
see her and make what reparation he could. 

Heaven only knows if I shall ever live to reach 
England ; and I would rather she had my share of 
the Donnycourt property than that cub William,’^ he 
thought bitterly. ‘Hf she still has that certificate of 
marriage that Rogers wrote out, I believe we can 
manage it ; for Goody Eolinsbee said, the lines, as she 
called it, given by the blacksmith at Gretna Green, 
would stand in any law court. Or else she shall get 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


393 


her own parson to go over the ceremony again. She 
need not be afraid ; for she would soon be left a tol- 
erably wealthy widow.” 

With this intention he left Newport, assuming for 
safety a civilian dress. He did not care to show him- 
self in Providence at the risk of being recognized, so 
he liired a small boat that landed him near Gaspee 
Point. His friends had remonstrated with him, but 
he acted with his usual willful disregard of conse- 
quences. He would not confide to any one his reasons 
for going to Providence, and turned aside all anxious 
warnings concerning his health with a jest. He in- 
tended to go on foot from Gaspee Point to the Fythe 
Farm, but the exposure in the boat had brought on a 
severe attack of the rheumatism to which he had be- 
come subject, and he got shelter for the night at a 
house where he was kindly received, but fearing lest he 
should fall seriously ill among strangers, he continued 
his journey as soon as he found himself relieved 
from acute pain. 

He soon found that his strength was gone and he 
could find no means of conveyance. He was in this 
sorry plight when he fell in with Jonathan Pursell, 
and in utter desperation he made himself known to 
him, and begged Jonathan to find him a safe lodging. 

Even in that sore strait it was not without a slight 
satisfaction, that he asked this rival suitor for Mercy’s 


394 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


hand to make known to her his desire to see her. But 
the satisfaction was short-lived ; a feeling of com- 
punction and shame came over him as he saw Jona- 
than with quiet resolution depart upon his errand. 
Then followed painful doubts as to whether Mercy 
would come; and these increased as again severe pain 
racked his weakened frame. 

Kitty Drew, an old friend of Jonathan’s mother, 
did what she could for him. But the quiet and 
religious old woman was half afraid of his impa- 
tience, and wholly shocked at the profanity which, 
from habit, escaped his lips, in his suffering, though 
he would willingly have avoided anything that was 
likely to excite annoyance or remark. 

Kitty was sufficiently skilled in doctoring to see 
that the rheumatism, which he looked upon as the 
least dangerous ailment, was in fact liable at any mo- 
ment to reach the heart, and she longed for Jonathan’s 
return, that he might fetch a doctor, or at least be 
with his friend at the end which she felt sure was 
rapidly approaching. 

When at length hoof beats were distinctly heard, 
and a few minutes later Mercy herself entered the 
room, Arthur was suffering so greatly that he could 
not get breath to speak. Mercy had been trembling 
with agitation the moment before, and JSTathanael 
feared she would be unable to bear the sight before 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


395 


her. But her self-control returned as soon as she 
forgot herself. 

Motioning to Nathanael to remain out of sight, 
Mercy took from Kitty’s hand the potion that she 
had prepared for Donnycourt, and herself held it to 
his lips. Then as he grew easier she whispered to 
Kitty; and the old woman, satisfied that her lodger 
had found friends, and well used to seeing Mercy, 
wherever there was distress or illness, left the room. 

All the prearranged speeches which Arthur had 
intended to address to Mercy failed him, and he could 
only in short and stammering sentences express his 
wishes. But, when he began to speak of his property, 
an ominous flush mounted to the very roots of Mercy’s 
hair, and she turned upon him such a pained and ap- 
pealing look that he stopped and left the sentence 
unfinished. 

I thought you might need it — at least you ought 
to have it,” he said after a few seconds of silence, in 
which she was too much hurt to speak. “And be- 
sides,” he continued, with the irritation of a child not 
used to being crossed, “ I must do something. You 
are an angel, and I — well, I deserved to be shot. 
Let me do something for you, Mercy, just to show 
that you forgive me.” 

“ I do forgive you, as fully and freely as I hope to 
be forgiven,” replied Mercy in low thrilling tones. 


396 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


^^Bat the kindest thing you can do for me is to for- 
get me entirely now. Your future troubles me far 
more than my own.’^ 

He looked in faint surprise at the gentle tear- 
dimmed eyes gazing so sadly at him. 

Ah, it is too late for that,’’ he said shortly. I 
might have done better, but I took my choice, and 
must make the best of it. Do not trouble your kind 
heart about me. I hope I shall not prove a coward 
when the end comes, be it far, or be it near.” 

The only reply that Mercy made was to bow her 
head, and, with trembling lips, begin a fervent prayer 
to the One who alone can rescue the soul from the toils 
of the Evil One. Nathanael listened with awe to her 
simple, earnest words. She who was generally so 
shrinking and timid about expressing her religious 
feelings, seemed now to have entirely forgotten herself ; 
and even the slight trembling in her voice was soon 
steadied in her earnest appeal. But when she prayed 
that the effect of her fault might not stand as a bar 
between this soul and the Divine Mercy her voice 
shook again. Donnycourt dared not interrupt her ; 
the protest he would have uttered died on his lips. 
He dimly understood that nothing but the assurance 
that his soul was safe would bring relief and comfort 
to her. For a moment a strange feeling came over 
him. He was almost jealous of his own soul, this 


IK COLONIAL DAYS. 


397 


part of him for which Mercy cared so deeply, and of 
which he had thought so little, in those days of health 
and gayety when his chief care was the amusement, 
and the adornment, and the comfort of the handsome 
figure, that was to him an inseparable part of 
Arthur Donnycourt. While he was inwardly pity- 
ing this wrecked and shattered body, she scarcely 
seemed to give it a thought. Still he could not be 
otherwise than touched by her intense earnestness ; 
and it was in no careless, or scoffing tone he said : 

^^Do you believe in death-bed repentance? It 
always seemed to me a cowardly attempt to shirk the 
consequences of one^s misdeeds.^^ 

‘^Yet you sent for me,^’ said Mercy. ^^And you 
have not injured me half as deeply as you have 
sinned against the Saviour who shed his blood to 
redeem you.’’ 

The latter part of his words was to him a mere 
religious phrase, but the logic of the first part struck 
him. 

“Yes, you are right,” he said after a moment’s 
thought, “and I can truly say that I am sorry for a 
great deal that is past; and if I get up again I will 
try to do better. That must satisfy you and set your 
heart at rest. I am not worth troubling about,” and 
he smiled half sadly. 

“ The Saviour did not say that. To him, you were 


398 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


worth dying for/’ said Mercy simply, and again 
Donnycourt had no answer to make. 

What would you have me do?” he asked at last 
half petulantly. 

would have you give to him the soul for which 
he has paid such a price/’ she answered with reverent 
awe. ^^That you did not give it sooner is no reason 
that you should defraud him forever.” 

For the first time Donnycourt felt his assured cour- 
age, as he called it, failing him. The picture her 
words presented to him, of himself as defrauding One 
who had bought him with his life, was not as satisfac- 
tory to him as his own view of himself as a man who 
had gone wrong, but was too courageous and just to 
try to shirk the consequences. He fought it off. He 
wanted to be angry with Mercy, but this gentle earn- 
est woman Avas not speaking wfith intention to pain 
him; she only expressed her own strong conviction 
as simply and anxiously as she might have told him 
that he would never be able to undertake the voyage 
to England. 

What can I do ? ” he asked again restlessly. 

“Oh, ask that of Jesus,” said Mercy earnestly. “He 
will give you the answer.” 

“ I cannot. You Avill ask for me,” he replied 
wearily. It Avas the same spirit that led the boy 
Arthur always to come to Sophy to help him out of 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


399 


his wrong-doing and troubles; but Mercy, who did 
not know him so thoroughly, could not divine this, 
and again she knelt in fervent, simple prayer. 

Who can limit the power of such prayers? There 
was a gleam of moisture in the restless eyes as he 
said : 

“Thank you.^^ 

Then another paroxysm of pain stopped all con- 
versation. When it passed off he lay for a time 
exhausted ; then he suddenly asked : 

“Are you here alone 

“No,’’ replied Mercy, “my brother brought me.” 

“Rodman?” said Arthur; “I would like to see 
him.” 

At a sign from Mercy, Nathanael advanced and 
Arthur smiled faintly as he tried to hold out his 
hand. 

“Nearly gone!” he whispered. “Don’t think too 
badly of me, Rodman. I’ve tried to make the 
amend, but she cares for nothing, but my soul, that, 
alas, I know little about.” 

Nathanael, like many a strong man brought face to 
face with the wreck of health, and gayety, and beauty, 
was overcome, and could not command his voice to 
reply, and Arthur continued : 

“I wish you would give my trinkets to Sophy. 
Except this, it was my mother’s, will you take it ? ” 


400 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


and he looked wistfully at Mercy, as he indicated a 
ring on his finger with hair set in pearls. ^‘Take 
it off, and give it to her. I want to see her take it,’^ 
he added, as Mercy bowed her head afraid to trust her 
voice ; and Nathanael did as he requested. I wish 
that I had left my property to Sophy, but it is too 
late for that now. I am always too late to do any 
good it seems.’’ 

^^Not too late to accept the Saviour’s love,” said 
Nathanael, making an effort to speak as he saw Mercy 
looking piteously at him. 

‘^Do you really think that?” he said, turning again 
toward Mercy with wistful eyes. He seemed afraid 
that she might leave him, and he whispered other 
words that she could not catch, but she answered with 
steady and unfaltering tones : 

am sure of it, if you will only trust in Jesus.” 

His breath began to come in heavy gasps ; Na- 
thanael pushed her gently back. 

^‘Go now, my child,” he said; and Mercy, feeling 
her strength giving way, obeyed him. As she left the 
bedside, she caught in faint tones the words of the 
Litany, ^^Lord, have mercy on me,” and she left the 
room to weep and pray. While thus engaged a little 
later she felt Nathanael’s hand on her shoulder, and 
saw his grave face bending over her, as he said : 

Come, dear ; there is no more for us to do here.” 


CHAPTER XXXIY. 


MERCY FINDS HER LIFE WORK. 

TT was at the old Fythe Farm and by those to 
whom he had caused the bitterest suifering, that 
Donnycourt’s memory was most truly and tenderly 
respected. Even Dorothy to whom the whole sad 
story was told by Mercy, though she was shocked 
and sorely distressed, spoke no word of blame either 
of the living or the dead, and warm-liearted Sophy 
shed bitter tears when the merry companion of her 
girlish days was borne to his last resting place in the 
Xorth Burying Ground. The days following that sad 
evening in May wore on for Mercy in a strange awed 
stillness that she could hardly understand. Once 
when they were alone together she looked with wistful 
glance at Sophy’s tearful eyes, and whispered : 

Don’t think hardly of me, dear, that I cannot 
weep. God has been merciful to us, and has given 
me comfort that I never dared to hope for ; but oh, 
how different it might have been!” 

Sophy’s lips trembled and she could not trust her 
voice to reply. The look of patient endurance in 
Mercy’s eyes, touched her more deeply than any 

2A 101 


402 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


amount of tears. And in her own heart she knew 
that although at times she had been inclined to resent 
Mercy’s calmness, any demonstrative grief would have 
appeared to her hypocritical. 

Mercy herself had neither the strength nor the wish 
to keep up appearances. That last meeting with 
Donnycourt had drawn out the sting that had rankled 
in her heart, but it seemed to her that all her feelings 
either of joy or sorrow were deadened. She was like 
a helpless, wandering cliild, who can only cling closely 
to the guiding hand that is leading it through the 
darkness. Whither it was leading her, she hardly 
asked, but she sometimes imagined that this strange 
lull of feeling must mean that her life work was 
ended, and her hold on this world was being loosened ; 
and she went about her daily duties with a quiet resig- 
nation of all will of her own that was restful, yet 
seemed almost strange to her. 

The one who suffered the most deeply at this time 
was Jonathan Pursell. His sensitive conscience made 
it no easy matter for him to be satisfied with his con- 
duct and feelings towards Donnycourt; and he had 
not the slightest clue to enable him to understand 
what effect this sad ending of her love would have 
upon Mercy. He only saw that while going about as 
usual, she seemed to be separated from all the earthly 
interests and duties in which she still took her part; 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


403 


and he rode away to his church in Connecticut with a 
heavy presentiment that he had seen her for the last 
time. 

But our life work is rarely ended when we think it 
is. Sometimes we are ready to lay down our finished 
work, and the Master puts a new task before us; 
sometimes we are eagerly beginning some work and 
the Master takes it from us saying, '^Not yet.” 

Thus it is ofttimes in the life of individuals, and 
thus it was with the College, in which Dr. Manning 
was busily reorganizing the course of study. On 
Sunday, June 25, while he was preaching in the 
Meeting House, the College Building was again seized 
by order of the council of war ; but this time it was 
to be used as a hospital for the French troops. The 
ladies of the town were soon busied in preparing 
bandages and other necessaries, for the sick and 
wounded. Mercy was too well known as a valuable 
helper not to be called upon to aid in this work ; and 
in her own home, life still went on, bringing its joys 
and sorrows. Thus, even while it seemed to her that 
her own life was ended, Mercy found herself insen- 
sibly waking up to her usual interest and sympathy in 
the hopes and fears of those dear to her. 

On the very evening when it seemed to her as if 
the story of her life had ended by Arthur’s death-bed, 
Beuben had won from Penelope the answer that made 


404 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


the world open with rosy brightness before him ; and, 
although in the sudden gloom cast over the household 
by the tidings of Donny court’s death, Penelope had 
forbidden Reuben to speak to her father, the daugh- 
ter’s heart was not a sealed book to the mother, and 
Sophy knew that Nathanael’s approval would not be 
hard to gain. 

Sophy shrank from telling Mercy of this, but to 
Penelope and Reuben, who knew nothing of the rela- 
tions between Donnycourt and their dear aunt, it 
would have been strange indeed not to confide in 
Aunt Mercy and claim her sympathy and help. 

Therefore when the matter was properly and form- 
ally settled, it was she who was called upon by 
Reuben to aid him in his petition that the marriage 
should not be long postponed. And it was to her 
that Penelope brought the trivially important ques- 
tion about the preparing of her modest outfit. Doro- 
thy and Sophy soon followed in the way prepared for 
them by the young people; and called upon her as of 
old to help in settling doubtful matters and in accom- 
plishing the work that filled their hands. 

When Mercy also urged it, Reuben had without 
difficulty succeeded in gaining the consent of all that 
the marriage should take place in September. There 
was to be no change in the household, for no one 
would listen to any plan from Nathanael concerning 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


405 


another home for himself and Sophy; and indeed he 
saw clearly that, in the present impoverished condi- 
tion of the country, it was only by combining their 
slender means that the farm could be worked to any 
advantage. 

The marriage was a very quiet one, and it was 
Mercy who did the most to add all the brightness 
that their scanty resources would allow. She decked 
the little parlor in which Dr. Manning was to per- 
form the ceremony; she spread the table; and it was 
she who had a pleasant word for every one and was 
at every one’s beck and call. 

Jonathan Pursell was not able to be present, but he 
received accounts of the day from various sources, and 
all that he heard served to lighten in a degree the de- 
pression of his own heart. At least Mercy was not 
holding aloof from the joys of others, and he began 
timidly to ask himself whether it would be utterly im- 
possible that she, who could thus make brightness in 
the lives of others, might yet receive a degree of 
brightness in her own. 

The hope was a very faint one, but it was sufficient 
to impel him to make another visit to Providence as 
soon as he could possibly arrange it. He could only 
stay two days, and he did not see the newly married 
pair, whom he had ostensibly called to congratulate, 
for they were absent on a wedding jaunt to visit the 


406 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


dear friends at Haverhill; nor did he say one word 
to Mercy of his newly awakened hope. 

They talked of the prospects of Keuben and his 
wife, of the sad condition of the country, of Jona- 
than’s own work, but he returned to his post, carrying 
a lighter heart under the cloudy November skies, than 
he had borne when the air was full of the brightness 
and perfume of May. 

It was no easy work to which Jonathan returned; 
for religious interest had been at a very low ebb, while 
the tide of war swept over the land. Some of his 
best friends and helpers had fallen on the battle-field ; 
others who might have filled their places, were grown 
careless and indifferent ; and poverty and sorrow had 
laid sore burdens upon those who were eager to sup- 
port their minister in his efforts for the welfare of the 
church. Of all this, however, he said very little in 
his visit to his friends at the Fythe Farm. It was 
only through others that they learned of the trials with 
W’hich Jonathan had to contend. 

Mr. Smith, at the urgent request of his church that 
he would return from the army to his charge as soon 
as he could do so with honor, had resigned his chap- 
laincy and reached Haverhill in the latter part of 
October. Thus Reuben and Penelope had the pleas- 
ure of seeing him and of hearing his first sermon on 
the Sunday after his return. He preached from the 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


407 


appropriate text: ^^For a small moment have I for- 
saken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee.^^ 
Isaiali liv. 7. All that Reuben and Penelope could 
tell of Mr. Smith’s deeds and words was eagerly lis- 
tened to on their return to the Fythe Farm. Among 
other things Penelope one day mentioned : 

Mr. Smith says, that he met a Connecticut soldier 
who spoke with much respect of Elder Pursell. The 
man confessed with much contrition that he had been 
the instigator of much abuse of Mr, Pursell, which 
he had borne with wonderful patience. The poor 
man was at the time lying very ill in the hospital. 
He had been led to see the error of his ways, and he 
was anxious to make known to Mr. Pursell his re- 
pentance and his trust that he had truly experienced 
a change of heart. Mr. Smith promised him that he 
would convey the message, but he had been so pressed 
with affairs, both public and private, that he only had 
time to write to Mr. Pursell just before we left.” 

The talk flowed on in other channels, but a new 
thought had been presented to Mercy’s mind, and she 
was herself surprised at the indignant pain it gave her 
to think of Jonathan being subjected to rude abuse. 

She strove to dismiss it from her thoughts, for it 
was a thing of the past, and the man was penitent; 
but not long afterwards she overheard a remark ad- 
dressed to Dorothy by Mrs. Manning. 


408 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


“My husband feels a deep interest in Mr. Pursell. 
He is working so bravely and uncomplainingly. In 
a letter received from him last week, he speaks of the 
serious illness of old Mrs. Wells, a member of his 
church, who has been to him a truly Christian helper. 
He says that at her age it is not likely that she can 
recover. He will feeh her loss grievously, for there 
is at present great lack of sympathy and Christian 
spirit among his people.’^ 

They were walking home from church and Mercy 
was a few steps behind them and not taking part in 
the conversation, but, at these words, she felt again 
strong pity and pain as she thought of the lonely 
worker. It seemed as though the painful subject was 
often brought before her mind, though perhaps it was 
not because people talked much of Jonathan, but be- 
cause her ears were quick to catch any reference to him. 

Old Dame Truefitt one day remarked bluntly 
enough : 

“Jonathan Pursell needs a good wife to help him. 
I always say, if there is any one who needs a home 
and a kind woman in it to keep up his heart, it is a 
minister.’^ 

Although the snow was whirling outside the win- 
dows a flash of memory brought vividly before 
Mercy’s mind a hot August day and certain words 
spoken then. 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


409 


^^His respect for me must have been shaken past 
repair; but he is too faithful to turn to any other, and 
he prefers this lonely life/^ thought Mercy with a hot 
flush of pain ; and after this she began to feel keenly 
that nothing in this world can be said to be ended, 
and that the consequences of her action were still 
working themselves out. 

It was not the sharp misery she had suffered before, 
but it was painful to feel that she had spoiled the hap- 
piness of a good man’s life; and, deep down in her 
inmost heart, she found that not this alone caused her 
pain, but that she depended much upon Jonathan’s 
delicately expressed sympathy and quiet devotion. 

I have taken it all in my selfish thoughtlessness, 
and never once considered that he was giving me all 
and asking nothing. If he could drop me entirely 
out of his thought, he would surely find a good and 
noble woman to be his wife.” 

From that time a subtle change came over Mercy. 
She was again living and fighting in a world of her 
own, not merely sympathizing in the hopes and 
fears of others. Her thoughts anticipated Jonathan 
Pursell’s next visit, and were engaged in planning 
how she should make him understand that she hoped 
to see him happily married. But here her thoughts 
became a confused and perplexing jumble. 

She had time enough to think and plan in every 


410 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


conceivable way, for it was not until the buds were 
swelling on the delicate twigs that Jonathan’s horse 
again stopped at the Fythe Farm. 

If Mercy had been ten years younger, her nervous- 
ness would have shown itself probably in sundry 
mishaps; but now it was just a quiet and self-re- 
pressed woman who greeted her friend with common- 
place words of welcome. Nathanael and Reuben 
were out in the fields. Penelope and Dorothy were 
up-stairs, occupied with the weekly basket of mend- 
ing, and Sophy after a few words excused herself to 
go and call them. 

Now was Mercy’s opportunity, the time she had 
looked forward to — but what could she say? Only 
a few inquiries concerning his work came to her 
lips, then suddenly as she was seeking for words she 
found that Jonathan too had felt this was liis oppor- 
tunity and he was at no loss for words. What was he 
saying? Was she listening again to his eager speech 
in the arbor? Again a hot rush of shame mantled in 
her face, but there was no anger, only bitter pain in 
her tone as she replied hurriedly: 

“ Mr. Pursell, I thank you for enabling me to say 
what I have been wishing to tell you. I cannot but 
feel that I must have forfeited your esteem. I know 
your goodness, your compassion, prompt you to think 
kindly of me, but” — her face was burning and her 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


411 


eyes began to fill with tears, she continued hastily with 
a great effort, I must not spoil your life, as I have 
my own. You will find some one I trust ” 

Was her voice going to fail her just now? When 
she knew the words, could she not get breath to 
speak them? Her hands were clasping and unclasp- 
ing nervously, and a mist gathered before her eyes as 
she made a great effort at self-control. Suddenly her 
cold and trembling fingers were taken in a strong 
grasp, and Jonathan’s voice spoke in a low tone of 
thankful reverence that startled her by its depth of 
feeling. 

Spoil my life! You, who have unwittingly 
helped me all these years ! Ah, it is I who offer you 
a life of trials and discouragements ! But it is the 
Master’s work.” 

Steps were heard approaching on the stairs; he 
paused and his eyes eagerly scanned her face. What 
he read there was no denial, and he added earnestly : 

May God make me worthy of the blessing he has 
given me ! ” 

He bent his head and kissed her hands; then, 
gently releasing them, he stepped forward to greet 
Dorothy and Penelope, who were just entering. 

Mercy’s first feeling was intense gratitude to him 
for having thus restrained himself and helped her to 
regain her composure. Then the full meaning of his 


412 


IN COLONIAL DAYS. 


words came upon her with a feeling of peace and re- 
lief that surprised her; and then came a tardy dread 
that he had not understood her, or that some explana- 
tion must be made; for surely she could not have 
accepted him at the very time that she was telling him 
to forget her! 

But the opportunity for this explanation never 
came. Jonathan evidently considered the matter set- 
tled, and he only pressed for a speedy marriage. In 
this he was supported by Dorothy and Sophy, who 
felt that the period of betrothal and the inevitable 
idle gossip of neighbors and acquaintances would be 
very trying for Mercy. Their own shrinking from the 
parting was kept in the background by their loving 
thoughtfulness for her, and Mercy with thankful ap- 
preciation of their motives quietly acquiesced in their 
plans for no unnecessary delay. 

The marriage was very quiet, and Jonathan directly 
afterwards took his bride 1 ome. In the quiet but 
arduous life of the wife of a country minister Mercy’s 
love and faith gained ever-increasing strength. While 
Jonathan learned to value more highly with each re- 
turning year the happiness that at one time seemed 
entirely out of his reach. 

As years sped on, Penelope, looking with loving 
pride on the sturdy sons and fair daughters that gath- 
ered around her knee, sometimes heaved a regretful 


m COLONIAL DAYS. 


413 


sigh as she thought of Aunt Mercy’s childless home. 
But those who lived near her and saw her every-day 
life, would hardly say that there was any lack of chil- 
dren in that home; for there was not a child in the 
village, who did not, shyly or boldly, according to its 
nature, find its way to Mistress Pursell’s neat kitchen. 
Nor was it only the children who felt the influence 
of her gentle, loving ways. The anxious and hard- 
worked mothers, overwhelmed with household cares, 
soon learned to depend on the ready sympathy of the 
minister’s wife, who never seemed to be too busy to 
carry to them help and comfort, or too much preoccu- 
pied with her own trials to have a word of cheer and 
heavenly consolation for the weary and heavy laden. 


THE END. 


,4 



r 










I 

P . ^ 









- 


I •• 






i 


« 


4 



■;? 



u. 


•v 


« f 


✓ 


- 





» 


*4 













4 


• « 


» 



■ «% 



r 


•« 



« 



\ 


#- 






\ 


* 

r 


" , f ^ 

« ’ A 




• 4 




# 


A 

» * 


%♦ / • • * 9 


4 




% V 

f 




% 


0 


J i 





) 



I 


t 


>: 


. # • 


» 





« 


« 





9 


I 

« 


#* 


% 



4 


\ 



• ^ 





0 • 


4 t 


* 

r 


< 


I-* 





’ • 

4 


• « 





( 


4 


4 






9 







r* • ..T , . 


f t 





t 



I 


> 







.-r ■ 

. ^ . 




« 




t 




' • 

*-• 


t 



ft % 



V 




V",’^ -5r 


« 


t 


« 


t 


1 


w 




« 



1 \. • 




•. 





V^> 



) 


• > 


\ 


\ 




a 






I* « 




♦...r 












3!irC> 


-■ 






K-X 


• 9 


1 i # 




r-?.- 


"»*-i 


>Cv 








t - 


I >< 


/V- ' . 


, t 


« V 


* %i 


• i 


V' 




^ - '4 






•U- 


' • t 


4 ^ 


i 


r ^ * 


/. ,- *. 






J . 




, , I f _ • ^ 


. f 


V - 


,'■ ► •.■•V 


' i A * ‘ i 
V V , • * 

t A 


ftiPLf 






i r 




r -’ f. •- ,' 

? ■“ ' 


St >■ 






>/ 




. / 


4 « 




i\ 


' 1. 


c I .* 

' j: ■ 


4n« 


V 




\i 


Wi 


.Hf, 


i 




1^ /i# ■ 


v«^* 


< • 


• » 






# 

T 


■« . 


- 




- - T i * • • ^ . . . • . 

r*. •?:. V'".' *• '^r * 


li *: 












« ♦ <-:% ^ V - » jfj 

' • . _ . .* V 1 




4' 


«• % 


». * . I • • ' t. 




Vki i>C 


#_ * 


^W4 


. « * • . - • 

-• . »♦ ' '! ' '-■ 


-C 


• f 






»« 


arf 








• XT’. 




i 


v: 




u 


\r‘ 


Jk •S- 




Sis 













\riSt 


.« 





i ’ 


• -r 


►#r 




! 

■V 

, ^ . ♦ » - 

• 

• 

^ n * ♦ 

V.. . 


; 

a A * m 

^ r 

_ ’T 







’• •'^•V . - V V 

■ ■ ‘ ■’ ^ 





Jy 


* 1 


r% 






^:i 


« ^ 



/V >:r 


NfiftAi#' .‘iriir.d 




V 


U 


% 





- \ 


9^ 


\ 


^ '• , -• 


♦ 




■rl.X 


■\ ' 4 ' 


• t 


n ' 

/ .. 




;/^ -• - - ~..w.-:V:'.\r: . . ; ^ 

y • . ^ “i ' •■■ • . v-‘ '>' r ■/ ■ 

’ ^ * ■> 1. '* '.'v ♦ .'. •- ;2S{? 


1 ^ 
• » 


. 




r ‘r s ^ ' 


> .f 


< ^ I 


■df?' 

- . ■* V’ 'i 


r> {- 


k • ' * ♦ - . 

S ’-• ^ 


r - 

\ 


v»V % 

» 


>'•’ ^ 


4 i 


A 4 » 


i. < 




V . «* 




A«- 


. > I ^ 

^ • - 


■ r A . ^ . ' - 

t ' . * \ ^ *, 


. ^ 






• 4 

/ 


6 : 


J/.'. ^ 


« < 


' - « 
. * 


» % 


I t 


Mi 


•^4^’ . 


: 7^\- 

• I 


^' ■«. 


V • 

• % 


* » 


y! 


* i' i 

/ 






/ • J 




J 


*->>. 

X 




■J- 


'J*As 


K. 


>• 


k' . 


^ - '^ •* ► V ^ \ 

^ - "i 

. \'V- .V 

^ . ' .• -V A. 


f 


'ij' 

. **.*: 


mr-':- 


s 

>f • ' 


-* ;-rf • • .v^ 

• , ^ . 4 

^ K V 




* 

f • 


U. * . :- • 




' *■><' 

‘ T ^-7* 


4 , 


^ ft ^ 

•.?K.-- 


V ^ 


• • ft 

ft' 

' • ‘A. 




\m 




\ . 


• s I » 


; • ' ^ 


* • % 


^ _ 6 j? >■ 








» 


V 

V' 

'f. 


/’V* ♦, S 14 . 




,4 t, * ^ . . V ^ 


> • 


y 


\ V 




• ^• 


— r 










